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Glint-Lights 


ON  THE; 


en  Commandments 


Before  the  Reform  Congregation  Keneseth  Israel, 
Philadelphia, 

BY 

RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAtfSKOPF,  D.  D. 


CONTENTS : 


I.   Ancient  and  Modern  Idolatry. 
II.   The  Law  of  Retribution. 

III.  Reverence  to  whom  Reverence  belongs. 

IV.  Through  Labor  to  Rest. 

V.   Children's  Rights  and  Parents'  Wrongs. 


VI.  Slay  the  Sin,  but  not  the  Sinner. 

VII.  The  Sanctity  of  the  Home. 

VIII.  The  Noblest  Title :  An  "Honest  Man." 

IX.  The  Highest  Fame:  A  "Good  Name." 

X.  A  Plea  for  Noble  Ambition.    . 


PHILADELPHIA : 
OSCAR  KLONOWER    Publisher. 


WORKS  BY  RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 

THE  JEWS  AND  MOORS  IN  SPAIN. 

A  Romance  and  a  History.      8vo.,  246  pages.     Cloth  bound 


Chapter  I — A  Day  in  Cordova. 

II— Europe  during  the  Dark  Ages. 

Ill — Continued. 

IV — Return  to  Cordova. 

V— The  Arab-Moors. 

VI— A  Sabbath  Eve  in  Cordova. 

VII— Continued. 

VIII — Entrance  of  Jews  into  Europe. 

IX — Entrance  of  the  Jews  into  Spain 


Si. oo 

CONTENTS: 

Ckapter  X  —Their  Position  in  Medical  Science 
'       XI— In  the  Sciences. 
XII — In  Literature. 
XIII— In  Philosophy. 
XIV— In  the  Industries. 
XV — The  Inquisition. 
XVI— The  Expulsion  of  the  Jews. 
XVII — The  Dispersion  of  the  Jews. 
XVIlI-Effect  of  the  Expulsion. 


EVOLUTION  AND  JUDAISM. 

8vo.,  342  pages.     Cloth  bound 


I.  The  Dynamic  and  the  Static  Force  of 

Religion 

II.  Evolution  and  the  Bible. 

III.  Creation  and  the  Bible. 

IV.  Matter  and  Force. 

V.  The  Nebular  Hypothesis. 

VI.  Darwinism. 

VII.  Primeval  Man. 

VIII.  Evolution  of  Man,  Intellectually. 

IX.  Evolution  of  Man,  Socially. 


CON?1 

ENTS 

"'orce  of 

X. 

Evolution  of  Man,  Religiously. 

XI. 

Evolution  of  Man,  Morally. 

XII. 

Evolution  of  God. 

XIII 

Evolution  of  Immortality. 

XIV. 
XV. 

Evolution  of  Worship 
Evolution  of  Judaism. 

XVI. 

Summary. 

Glossary. 

r. 

Index 

SUNDA  Y  LECTURES. 


Series  V. 
Rabbi..... 


1891-189*.     Neatly  bound  in  Cloth,  Gilt  Edges,  with  engraving  of  the 


CONTENTS: 


Theologies  many — Religion  one. 

Who  wrote  the  Pentateuch? 

Shylock, — the  unhistoric  Jew. 

Nathan,  the  Wise — the  historic  Jew. 

Darkness  before  the  Dawn. 

On  the  Threshold. 

Illusion.     (Dreams,  Visions,  etc.) 

Delusion.     (Hypnotism,  Faith-Cure,  etc.) 

Hallucination.  (Ghosts,  Spiritualism,  etc.) 

Jesus  in  the  Synagogue. 

To-Day  better  than  Yesterday. 

Wanted — A  Rational  Religious  School. 

Civilization's  Debt  to  Woman. 

Civilization's  Duty  to  Woman. 

"There's  a  Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends." 


16.  Justice — Not  Charity. 

17.  A  Personal  Interest  Society. 

Glint-Lights  on  The  Ten  Commandments. 

18.  I.  Ancient  and  Modern  Idolatry. 

19.  II.  The  Law  of  Retribution. 

20.  III.  Reverence  to  whom  Reverencebelongs 

21.  IV.  Through  Labor  to  Rest. 

32.        V.  Children's  Rights  and  Parents'  Wrongs 
23       VI.  Slay  the  Sin,  but  not  the  Sinner. 

24.  VII.  The  Sanctity  of  the  Home. 

25.  VIII.  The  Noblest  Title:  An  "Honest  Man." 

26.  IX.  The  Highest  Fame:  A  "Good  Name." 

27.  X.  A  Plea  for  Noble  Ambition. 

28.  The  Old  in  the  New  and  The  New  in  the  Old. 


JEWISH  CONVERTS,  PERVERTS  AND  DISSENTERS. 

CONTENTS: 


I.  True  and  False  Converts. 

II.  Jesus — A  Jew,  and  not  a  Christian. 

III.  Paul— The  Jew  and  the  Gentile. 

IV.  Forced  Converts. 

V.  Allured  Perverts. 

VI  Spinoza — Not  a  Convert  nor  a  Pervert. 


VII.     Brilliant  Women -Ignoble  Perverts. 

Pamphlet  form  50  cents. 


VIII.  Boerne  and   Heine— Perverts  through 

Christian  Intolerance. 

IX.  Isaac    Disraeli  —  A    Pervert    through 

Jewish  Intolerance. 

X.  Benj.  Disraeli-A  Convert  and  yet  a  Jew 

XI.  The  Blank  Leaf  between  the  Old  and 

the  New  Testament. 


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Ancient  and  Modern  Idolatry 

RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 

Philadelphia,  February  jrx/.  iSgz. 

Exod.  xx.  3.     D'-inx   DTI^X   •]*?   iTrv   X^ 

It  was  a  sad  day,  that  fatal  Sabbath,  when  Pompey  arid  his  -legions 
battered  down  the  Temple-walls  of  Jerusalem,  slew  12,000  patriots  within 
its  gates,  and  made  Judea  a  vassal  and  tributary  of  Rome. 
For  yet  another  cause  that  day  was  sad,  perhaps  saddest    HoHes'empty 
for  that  cause.     The  enemy  had  desecrated  the  sanctuary. 
Into  the  Holy  of  Holies,  into  which  not  even  the  Israelite,  not  even  the 
under-priest,  was  permitted  to  set  his  foot,  no  one  save  the  High  Priest, 
and  he  only  once  a  year  for  a  few  moments,  on  the  sacred  Atonement- 
Day,  Pompey  and  his  soldiers  had  forced  their  way,  had  lifted  its  veil  with 
profane  hand,  to  feast  their  eyes  on  the  sights  and  mysteries  behind.    But, 
the  disappointment  of  the  Romans  was  even  greater  than  the  consterna- 
tion of  the  Jews.     They  had  expected  to  behold  wonderful  sights,  and  they 
saw  nothing.     The  space  was  filled — with  emptiness.* 

Yes,  empty  was  the  space  within  the  Holy  of  Holies.  Even  the  Holy 
Ark,  with  its  two  granite  tablets  on  which  were  graven  the  Ten.  Command- 
ments, was  no  longer  there.  Only  the  foundation  stones 

Yet  filled  with 
were  there  to  designate  the  place  where  it  had  stood.     It    the  presence  of    ' 

had  disappeared  at  the  time  of  the  Babylonian  Captivity,  jehovah'1^ 
some  five  hundred  years  before.  But,  though  empty  to 
the  Roman,  for  the  Jew  it  was  filled  with  the  presence  and  glory  of  his 
invisible  and  incorporeal  God.  Though  Pompey  saw  nothing: there,  the 
High  Priest  saw  more  and  felt  more  during  his  annual  few  minutes'  pres- 
ence within  that  awful  precinct  than  all  the  Greek  and  Roman  masters 
could  have  sculptured  into  stone  or  painted  on  canvas.  There  was  the 
spiritual  abode  of  Jehovah.  There  the  people,  represented  in  their  High 
Priest,  stood  face  to  face  with  their  God.  The  emptiness  and  loneliness 
and  darkness  of  the  place  was  overawing.  For  days  in  advance  the  High 
Priest  got  himself  in  spiritual  readiness  for  that  annual  entrance  into  the 
Holy  of  Holies,  for  the  purpose  of  making  intercession  for  his  people. 
When  the  hour  came,  he  entered  it  with  trembling  foot,  and  whert  behind 
the  veil,  the  people  without  waited  in  breathless  suspense,  for  it  had 
occurred  that  alarm  and  terror  so  overwhelmed  the  High  Priest  within 
that  awful  precinct,  that  he  never  returned  from  it  alive. 


*  Josephus  :  Antiquities,  XIV,  Chap,  iv,  3-4  ;  Tacitus  :  Historiaf,  v. 


I 

yes,  empty  was  the  Holiest  Place  of  the  Sanctuary  of  Jerusalem,  and 
dark.     Except  for  the  moment,  when  the  High  Priest  lifted  the  veil  to 

pass  into  it,  and  when  the  space  reflected  the  crimson 
Though  dark          ~.    , 
and  empty  it  has   light  that  arose  from  the  censer  on  which  the  incense 

Sited  thedearth.  burnt,  not  a  ray  of  light  entered  it  all  the  year.  And  yet 
from  out  that  darkness  there  has  issued  a  light  that  has 
illumined  the  earth.  The  small  shrine,  that  once  alone  afforded  dwelling- 
place  to  the  invisible  God  of  the  Universe,  has  broadened  its  confines  till 
now  it  embraces  our  whole  globe.  The  name  Jehovah,  that  then  was 
uttered  but  once  a  year  by  a  single  priest,  in  but  a  single  sanctuary,  is 
uttered  now,  with  reverence  and  in  worship,  in  thousands  of  sanctuaries, 
by  hundreds  of  millions  of  people,  all  over  the  world.  The  God  of  the 
Jews,,  that  to  the  Romans  seemed  so  poor  as  not  to  be  able  to  command 
the  service  of  a  single  sculptor  or  painter,  has  overthrown  the  proudest 
products  of  the  ancient  masters,  has  driven  the  sculptured  and  painted 
gods  and  goddesses  of  the  Pantheons  into  the  Museum,  and  has  put  into 
their  places  those  master-builders  of  modern  civilization,  who  toiled  and 
achieved  in  the  service  of  the  Unseen  God. 

We  are  not  surprised  at  the  Roman's  amazement  over  the  emptiness 
of  the  Holy  of  Holies,  over  the  absence  of  idols  in  the  sanctuary  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  his  ridiculing  the  Jews  for  worshipping  '  noth- 
iegod.  in?  but  clouds.'  Worship,  without  a  vivid  conception 
and  an  actual  perception  of  the  object  worshipped,  seemed 
impossible  to  the  Roman.  Homer  had  spoiled  the  Greeks  and  their 
Roman  heirs  for  theological^bstractions.  They  had  to  have  their  Mount 
Olympus,  had  to  people  it  with  gods  and  goddesses,  very  much  like  them- 
selves, of  similar  virtues  and  failings,  and  had  to  surround  themselves 
with  images  of  them  in  their  Temples,  on  their  public  squares,  in  their 
'  homes.  And  unless  they  had  thus  surrounded  themselves  with  visible 
and  tangible  gods,  they  never  would  have  worshipped  at  all.  Their  mind 
was  still  in  that  child-like  state,  that  needs  the  picture  in  the  book  to 
explain  the  text,  or  to  take  the  place  of  the  text  altogether,  that  endows 
its  toy  with  life,  animates  the  inanimate,  and  talks  to  it  as  if  it  were  a 
being  alive. 

Not  so 'with  the  Jew.     He  had  passed  his  childhood-days  long  before 
the  name  of  Greek  and  Roman  was  even  heard  of.     Before  these  had  yet 

begun  their  spelling  lessons,  he  had  already  delved  into 
Mature  Jewish  & 

mind  grasps  an      profound  theological    abstractions.      A   thousand  years 

idea?"* G0d  before  Homer  sang  of  the  wars  and  follies  and  foibles 
of  the  gods  and  goddesses,  Abraham  prostrated  himself 
before  Jehovah.  Fifteen  hundred  years  before  the  Roman  soldier  mar- 
velled at  the  absence  of  images  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  Moses  had  placed 
his  prohibition  against  idolatry  at  the  head  of  his  Ten  Commandments. 
Long  before  Rome  built  her  scores  of  Temples  to  as  many  different  gods, 
under  the  charge  of  as  many  different  sets  of  priesthoods,  and  ornamented 
them,  within  and  without,  with  no  end  of  images  of  every  size  and  shape 
and  form,  the  Jew  proclaimed  and  worshipped  the  one,  invisible,  and 


universal  God,  taught  that  no  finite  mind  shall  perceive,  or  can  conceive, 
the  Infinite,  held  every  attempt  at  picturing  a  God,  who  is  as  eternal  as 
time,  as  universal  as  space,  to  be  a  blasphemy  against  God,  and  a  griev- 
ous injury  to  man. 

He  had  learned  from  experiences  of  his  own,  and  from  observations 
among  others,  that  idolatry  thwarts  the  development  of  mind.     It  places 

a  piece  of  wood  or  stone  an  animal  or  a  human  being  in 

Idolatry  thwarts 
front  of  man  and  says  :  This  is  your  god,  this  the  author   development  of 

and  keeper  of  the  universe,  such  and  such  his  attributes,  mind  and  heart' 
this  believe,  and  further  seek  not.  The  great  mysteries  that  encompass 
man  being  thus  easily  disposed  of,  the  mind  gives  itself  no  further  trouble 
about  ferreting  out  the  awful  and  the  everlasting  secret,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  stimuli  to  thought  is  withdrawn  from  it.  Worship  becomes  a 
mechanical  exercise.  It  is  a  must — not  a  desire;  a  fear — not  an  inspira- 
tion. The  ubiquitous  presence  of  the  images  lessens  the  heart's  awe 
before  them,  begets  that  familiarity  that  breeds  contempt.  And  a  god- 
belief  with  little  in  it  to  set  the  mind  to  thinking,  and  to  inspire  the  heart 
with  awe,  develops  poor  specimens  of  worshippers. 

The  Jew,  therefore,  early  took  his  God  out  of  the  realm  of  matter, 
and  put  Him  into  the  realm  of  pure  thought,   abstracted  Him  beyond 

every  possibility   of  visible  or  tangible    representation, 

'     An  invisible  God 
made  Him  a  subject  of  speculation  rather  than  of  knowl-    a  constant  stimu- 

edge,  a  Being,  whose  nature  and  essence  are  never  to  be  mi/dde'velop^'1 
known,  only  to  be  conjectured  through  His  rnanifesta-  merit, 
tions  in  the  material  world  without,  and  in  the  spiritual  world  within. 
Never  seen,  and  but  faintly  conceived,  He  continued  to  be  the  great  mys- 
tery, that  constantly  drew  the  mind  of  man  towards  attempting  solutions, 
towards  tracing  His  hand-writing  in  the  great  volume  of  Nature,  or  feel- 
ing the  pulsations  of  His  existence  in  the  growing  harvests,  in  the  rolling 
oceans,  in  the  revolving  planets,  in  the  roaring  thunder,  in  the  still  small 
voice  of  conscience,  in  the  destinies  of  nations,  in  the  fates  of  people. 
Here  was  a  mine  of  thought,  which  the  research  of  all  the  centuries  since 
has  not  succeeded  to  exhaust.  Here  was  revelation  enough  to  constantly 
urge  the  mind  to  new  inquiries,  and  enough  of  wonder  and  glory,  of 
evidences  of  Divine  guidance  and  of  fatherly  design  and  forethought,  to 
keep  heart  and  soul  in  constant  awe  and  reverence. 

The  influence,  which  this  prohibition  against  having  any  other  God 
than  the  invisible,  incomprehensible  Jehovah,  with  its  implied  command, 

and  included  necessity  for  constant  search  after  His  true 

'  The  God-idea  of 

nature  and  essence,  had  on  the  preservation  and  develop-   the  jews  made  of 

ment  of  the  people  of  Israel,  can  not  be  overestimated,    thfnkers^and^ 

It  made  of  them  a  people  of  reasoners,  a  profoundly  reli-    preserved  them 

,  .  -  , .          as  a  people, 

gious  race,  and  against  such  a  people  the  surrounding 

idolatrous  nations  strove  in  vain.  They  had  not  the  leisure  for  wars  of 
conquest,  nor  the  time  for  fostering  the  arts.  They  had  theological  schools 
to  found  and  immortal  works  to  write.  Theirs  was  not  a  ready-made  God 
in  whom  they  had  but  to  believe.  They  had  to  find  their  God,  to  solve 


the  problem  of  His  existence,  of  His  nature  and  essence.  And  the  con- 
clusions they  arrived  at  were  too  dearly  bought  to  be  surrendered  at  the 
enemy's  demand.  They  could  take  their  country,  their  all,  their  life,  but 
not  their  God.  They  could  make  them  bow  before  tyrants  but  never 
before  idols.  They  could  take  their  rights  but  not  their  belief.  They 
could  violate  their  homes  and  tear  their  dearest  from  them,  and,  if  power- 
less, they  would  bear  their  misfortune  resignedly;  but  when  they  attempted 
to  violate  their  Temples,  to  sacrifice  there  to  a  heathen  god,  or  to  erect 
there  an  image,  or  to  pass  through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  bearing  images, 
even  if  but  an  emperor's  effigy  on  their  standards,  they  would  rise  in  all 
their  might  and  fury,  even  against  overwhelming  numbers,  and  heroically 
fight  for  their  God,  where  they  might  not  have  raised  as  much  as  a  finger 
to  fight  for  themselves. 

I  would  be  guilty,  however,  of  inaccuracy  or  partiality,  were  I  to  lead 
you  to  believe,  that  the  ancient  Jews  were  always  wholly  free  from  idol- 
atrous beliefs  and  practices.     The  absence  of  images  from 
Jews,  however, 
not  always  abso-    a  place  of  worship  argues  as  little  the  presence  of  pure 

nor  others  abso-  monotheism,  as  the  presence  of  images  proves  absolute 
lute  polytheists.  polytheism.  Many  a  pagan  writer  has  left  behind  hymns 
and  prayers,  through  which  breathes  a  purer  monotheism  than  through 
the  writings  of  many  a  monotheistic  scribe.  If  we  analyze  the  polythe- 
istic system  carefully,  we  have  even  no  difficulty  of  tracing  a  monothe- 
istic undercurrent  through  most  of  them,  especially  during  their  earlier 
stages.  They  recognize  one  Chief  God,  no  matter  how  many  minor  gods 
they-  acknowledge.  And  to  that  Chief  God  they  generally  ascribe  attri- 
butes aftd  powers,  such  as  the  ancient  Jews  ascribed  to  the  God  they 
worshipped.  Some  of  the  minor  gods  seem  to  have  stood  at  first  for  other 
names,  or  for  the  attributes,  of  the  Chief  God,  till  their  origin  was  for- 
gotten, and  they  became  independent  personalities,  till  such  different 
appellations  of  the  same  Deity  as  "  the  Ruler,"  "the  Most  High,"  "the 
Almighty,"  "the  Eternal,"  "the  Lord,"  "the  Creator,"  came  to  be 
looked  upon  as  different  and  independent  deities. 

In  the  Old  Testament,  too,  there  are  traces  of  such  mistakings  of  the 
different  attributes  or  names  of  the  same  Supreme  Power  for  different 

gods.    The  different  tribes  seem  to  have  had,  at  first,  their 
Un-monolheistic  ... 

God-conception      own  tutelar  gods.     When  they  consolidated  into  a  nation, 

tonfan  exfleBaby"  thev  seem  to  have  combined  their  different  gods  into  a 
group,  under  the  name  of  Elohim  (gods),  and  later  on 
merged  this  group  into  One  God,  under  the  name  of  Jehovah,  frequently 
in  conjunction  with  the  group-name  Elohim.  Till  the  Babylonian  cap- 
tivity, however,  the  back-slidings  into  polytheism  and  the  worship  of 
many  gods  were  frequent.  "According  to  the  number  of  thy  cities  are 
thy  gods,  O  Judah  "  lamented  the  prophet  Jeremiah.  Not  content  with 
returning  to  the  worship  of  their  own  earlier  gods,  they  frequently  fol- 
lowed '.the  gods  of  the  surrounding  people,  and  imitated  their  idolatrous 
practices.*  And  even  when  faithful  to  the  One  God,  their  conception  of 


*See  Judges  rvii  ;  I  Kings  xi,  xii ;  II  Kings  xx  ;  Ezek.  viii,  3-12. 


Him,  often  differs  little,  if  any,  from  the  anthropomorphistic  conceptions 
of  the  polytheistic  peoples.  God  is  represented  as  walking  on  earth  and 
holding  conversations  with  man,  as  shutting  the  door  of  the  ark  behind 
Noah,  as  coming  down  to  see  the  city  and  tower  that  man  had  built,  as 
smelling  the  sweet  savor  of  bloody  sacrifice,  as  tempting  Abraham  to  slay 
his  son,  as  drawing  the  design  of  the  Tabernacle,  and  the  pattern  of  the 
priestly  garments,  as  conniving  with  treachery  and  crime,  as  indulging 
in  violent  outbursts  of  passion,  and  in  frightful  attacks  of  cruelty,  often 
for  very  slight  offenses.  It  was  Jehovah  they  worshipped,  not  in  the  sense 
of  an  incorporeal,  incomprehensible  spirit,  but  as  an  absolute  Oriental 
tyrant.  Moses  overestimated  their  mental  capacity,  when  he  asked  them 
to  cast  aside  idolatry,  as  he  himself,  and  the  prophets  many  centuries  after 
him  learned  to  their  sorrow.  Not  till  a  thousand  years  later,  not  till  after 
their  return  from  the  Babylonian  captivity,  not  till  they  had  passed  from 
their  period  of  childhood  and  youth  into  mature  age,  could  they  be 
weaned  from  their  own  earlier  gods,  or  from  the  idols  of  the  surrounding 
nations. 

And  even  after  that,  the  idolatrous  spirit  clung  to  them,  and  with  but 
few  exceptions  has  not  left  them  to  this  day.  They  ceased,  indeed,  to 
worship  other  gods,  and  they  have  remained  heroically  un-monotheistic 
faithful  to  Jehovah  ever  since.  But  they  connected  the  SkSSteSS?"* 
worship  of  Him  with  rites  and  ceremonies  that  once  exile, 
belonged  to  idols,  and  to  these  rites  and  ceremonies  they  attached  an 
importance  and  a  sanctity,  which  in  course  of  time  turned  them  into  an 
idolatry.  The  service  at  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  presented  the  strange 
anomaly  of  a  monotheistic  God  in  a  polytheistic  garb,  of  an  idolatrous 
-worship  of  a  spiritual  abstraction,  of  ascribing  human  attributes  to  an 
invisible,  incorporeal,  incomprehensible  Being.  In  the  same  breath, 
in  which  they  spoke  of  Jehovah  as  the  Universal  Father,  they  appro- 
priated Him  exclusively  for  themselves.  They  declared  :  the  Heaven  of 
Heavens  could  not  contain  Him,  and  yet  shut  Him  in  within  their  Holy 
of  Holies.  They  spoke  of  Him  as  the  One  and  Only  God,  and  yet  on  the 
Atonement-Day  they  sent  the  scape-goat  into  the  wilderness  to  appease 
the  demons  The}^  spoke  of  Him  as  a  God  of  love  and  mercy,  and  yet 
crouched  and  trembled  before  Him,  as  if  He  were  some  cruel  tyrant,  and 
the  Temple-mount  daily  reeked  with  the  blood  of  innocent  animals,  sacri- 
ficed to  appease  His  anger  or  to  bribe  His  favor. 

It  is  only  too  true,  that  with  the  cessation  of  one  idolatry  after  the 
Babylonian  captivity,  another  one  sprang  up,  which,  if  not  as  debasing  as 

its  predecessor,  has  proved  itself  more  ineradicable.     The 

God-idolatries 

intentions  of  the  puritanic  Ezra,  very  likely,  were  the  replaced  by  cere- 
best.  To  keep  the  people  from  any  further  back-slidings  monial  idolatries 
into  idolatrous  beliefs  and  practices,  he  chained  them,  hand  and  foot, 
heart  and  soul,  to  a  mass  of  rigid  forms  and  rites  and  ceremonies,  from 
which  it  was  almost  impossible  to  break  away.  They  effected  their  object, 
t>etter  perhaps  than  even  Ezra  had  anticipated,  better  perhaps  than  he 
.had  desired.  Israel  never  again  slid  back  into  idol-worship.  They  had 


no  occasion  to,  for  they  had  turned  their  forms  and  rites  and  ceremonies 
into  an  idolatry. 

Of  the  Torah,  the  Pentateuch-Scroll,  they  made  an  idol,  and  they 
accorded  it  a  sanctity  amounting  to  worship.  They  even  spoke  of  it  as 
a  Spiritual  Being,  They  decked  it  with  the  finest  fabrics, 
The  Scro^"olat  and  ornamented  it  with  the  costliest  metals  and  jewels. 
The  place  it  occupied  in  the  synagogue  became  the  Holy 
of  Holies,  and  its  taking  from  the  shrine  constituted  the  height  and  glory 
of  the  service.  To  touch  it  with  unclean  hands  meant  its  pollution,  to  drop 
it  to  the  ground,  required  a  fast  of  the  congregation  in  expiation.  They 
carried  it  about  in  the  synagogue  like  an  idol,  and  they  crowded  to  touch 
or  kiss  it.  Woman  was  never  to  touch  it,  not  even  to  come  near  it,  it 
was  too  holy  for  such  creatures  as  she.  And  as  to  its  contents,  that  was 
regarded  from  beginning  to  end  the  work  and  word  of  God,  that  required 
implicit  belief,  and  unquestioning  observance.  To  doubt  a  word  of  it 
had  excommunication  for  its  consequence.  For  temporary  institutions 
and  local  laws  an  eternal  and  universal  obedience  was  demanded.  And, 
as  if  it  did  not  already  contain  more  commands  and  more  prohibitions 
than  the  average  man  could  live  up  to,  they  turned  and  twisted  words 
and  letters  and  dots  into  new  commands  and  new  prohibitions,  until  they 
made  life  a  hardship,  and  religion  a  torture. 

The  Sabbath,  that  had  been  instituted  for  rest  and.  recreation  and 
pleasure,  was  changed  into  a  day  of  endless  restrictions.  Like  the  Pen- 
tateuch, it* was  turned  into  an  idol.  And  a  gloomy  idol 
The  Sabbath-^  it  was  From  sunset  of  Friday  to  sunset  of  Saturday  the 
Jew  found  himself  encompassed  by  a  sea  of  Dont's,  the 
violation  of  a  single  one  of  which  constituted  a  heinous  sin.  Rather  than 
violate  any  one  of  these,  it  was  taught :  it  was  better  to  sacrifice  one's 
country,  fortune,  health,  even  life.  We  have  a  striking  illustration  of 
this  in  Pompey's  capture  of  the  Temple  on  the  Sabbath-day,  of  which  I 
spoke  before.  But  for  the  refusal  of  the  Jews,  who  had  in  every  way  the 
advantage,  to  attack  the  Romans  on  the  Sabbath-Day,  Pompey,  as  Jose- 
phus  shows  us,  might  never  have  been  able  to  batter  down  the  Temple 
walls,  nor  massacre  the  12,000  patriots,  nor  drag  princes  of  Israel  behind 
his  triumphal-car  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  nor  inaugurate  that  awful 
catastrophe  that  was  to  receive  its  fatal  finishing  touch  by  Titus,  a  century 
later.  Three  times  in  the  History  ©f  Israel  this  idolatrous  regard  for  the 
Sabbath  was  the  occasion  of  Jerusalem  being  taken  by  the  enemy,  and 
more  frequently  still  was  it  the  cause  of  frightful  carnage,  the  enemy 
taken  advantage  of  their  refusal  to  defend  themselves  on  the  Sabbath- 
Day.  Thus  was  the  Sabbath,  that  was  instituted  for  the  good  of  man, 
turned  into  a  supposed  benefit  to  God,  so  narrowed  had  the  God-con- 
ception in  Israel,  and  to  such  an  elevation  had  the  Sabbath  idol  been 
raised. 

And  what  is  the  Sabbath,  the  Saturday-Sabbath,  to  the  great  mass  of 
•our  people  to-day  but  an  idol.     Its  original  intention  is  wholly  lost  sight 


of.      On  Saturday  they  work  as  hard   as  on  any  other 

i  •        j         -r       ,.  i.      j  1-^1       -r        L    The  Sabbath-idol, 

working-day,  if  not  harder,  and  recreate  as  little,  if  not   of  the  present 

less.  If  they  rest  or  recreate  on  any  day  in  the  week,  or,  y- 
in  other  words,  if  they  at  all  observe  a  Sabbath,  (which  word  is  the  Hebrew 
for  the  English  word  Rest)  it  is  on  Sunday,  on  the  day  following  the  six 
working-days,  and  yet,  by  a  strange  contrariness  of  mind,  their  hardest 
wrorking-day  in  the  week  they  call  their  Sabbath,  and  the  day,  on  which 
they  faithfully  comply  with  the  very  letter  of  the  Biblical  command,  that 
calls  for  a  day  of  rest  after  six  of  toil,  the  day  on  which  they  rest  and 
recreate,  they  unblushingly  name  the  first  working-day  of  the  week.  To- 
such  hypocrisy  and  farce  men  of  reason  lend  themselves.  God  be  thanked, 
that  their  actions  at  least  are  more  honest  than  their  professions,  that  the 
hygienic  ends,  for  which  the  Sabbath  was  instituted,  are  satisfied,  that 
they  do  make  the  Sunday  their  Sabbath-Day,  their  Day  of  Rest  and 
Recreation,  even  though  they  say  they  don't.  It  is  true,  they  do  not 
worship  on  Sunday,  but  for  the  most  part  neither  on  Saturday,  nor  on  any 
other  day  of  the  week.  By  not  worshipping,  they  do  in  no  way  trans- 
gress against  the  Fourth  Commandment,  which  only  asks  for  cessation 
from  work,  for  rest,  but  has  not  a  word  to  say  concerning  worship,  the 
author  of  the  Sabbath  ordinance  considering  only  the  good  of  man,  and 
not  the  benefit  of  God,  knowing  that  God  will  continue  to  exist  without 
His  weekly  meed  of  praise,  but  not  man  without  his  weekly  Day  of  Rest. 

One  would  hardly  think  it  possible,  that  men,  who  observe  every 
detail  of  the  Sabbath  command,  on  Sunday,  and  violate  it  in  every  detail, 
on  Saturday,  would  dare  to  talk  of  adhering  to  principle,  solely  for  refus- 
ing to  sanctify  their  Sunday-rest  by  spending  an  hour  or  two  with  their 
God  in  their  synagogue  ;  and  yet  such  baseless  boasts  we  are  made  to 
hear  almost  daily.  We  have  yet  to  find  a  single  prohibition  against 
worshipping  on  Sunday  in  our  Bible  or  in  any  of  the  Jewish  Codices. 
But  well-nigh  endless  are  the  prohibitions  against  work  on  Saturday,  and 
yet  these  Sabbath-breakers  proudly  talk  of  principle,  for  publicly  doing 
what  their  Bible  tells  them  not  to  do,  and  for  not  doing  what  has  never 
been  prohibited.  What  else  can  this  mean,  but  that  such  men  as  these 
look  upon  the  Sabbath  as  a  sort  of  idol,  that  can  be  satisfied  with  a  mass 
of  hypocritical  pretensions?  Surely  no  rational  Israelite,  with  an  omnis- 
cient and  omnipresent  and  just  Jehovah  for  a  God,  would  dare  to  attempt 
to  dupe  Him  with  such  a  hollow  mockery. 

Only  a  hollow  mockery  it  is,  this  pompous  talk  of  principle,  that 
flows  so  glibly  from  the  tongues  of  Sabbath-breakers.  Those  ancient 
Israelites,  who  sacrificed  their  all,  even  their  lives,  rather  than  break  the 
Saturday-Sabbath,  they  might  have  talked  of  principle,  and  with  truth. 
If  their  course  was  not  commendable,  it  was  at  least  honorably  consist- 
ent. We  certainly  second  the  warning  the  father  of  the  Macabees  gave 
to  the  fugitives  of  Modin,  after  many  of  them  had  been  slaughtered  on 
account  of  not  defending  themselves  on  the  Sabbath-Day,  that  by  observ- 
ing their  law  so  rigorously  they  would  prove  their  own  enemies,  and- 


benefit  their  foe  through  their  own  inactivity.*  Yet  we  cannot  help 
admiring  the  self-sacrifice  of  the  slaughtered  for  what  they  believed  to  be 
principle.  In  our  present  intense  struggle  for  existence  I  prefer  to  see  a 
man  observing  the  Sunday-Sabbath  to  seeing  him  prove  his  own  enemy 
by  resting  two  days  in  the  week,  which  an  observance  of  the  Saturday- 
Sabbath  in  our  State  would  mean,  thereby  affording  his  competitor  the 
opportunity  of  crowding  him  to  the  wall.  Yet,  I  cannot  but  admire  the 
man,  who  heroically  sacrifices  his  own  interests  for  the  maintenance  of 
Ins  principle.  But  I  have  nothing  but  pity  for  those,  who  garner  in  the 
dollars  on  Saturday  in  the  sweat  of  their  brow,  and  keep  their  Sabbath- 
rest  on  Sunday,  and  then  talk  of  adhering  to  principle  by  attending  the 
Saturday-Service  once  or  twice  a  year — if  that  often — for  an  hour  or  two, 
(which  loss  is  often  made  up  by  commencing  the  Saturday  work  an  hour 
or  two  earlier,  or  continuing  it  so  much  longer)  or  by  sending  their  wives 
or  children,  or  by  paying  the  synagogue-officials,  to  keep  it  for  theui,  or 
by  making  a  shrewd  settlement  with  their  Saturday -idol,  giving  him  one- 
third  on  Friday  evening,  and  keeping  the  most  profitable  two-thirds  of 
the  Saturday  for  themselves,  for  the  pursuit  of  their  respective  vocations.. 
I  have  nothing  but  pity  for  those,  who  spend  the  Sunday  morning  with 
figuring  over  the  profits  of  their  Sabbath-breaking,  or  with  breaking  it 
for  mercenary  ends  as  mercilessly  as  they  broke  their  Saturday-Sabbath, 
or  with  snoring  in  their  beds,  or  with  gambling  at  their  clubs,  who  seldom 
if  ever  attend  a  Saturday-service,  and  yet  denounce  our  Sunday-Services 
as  The  Sabbath  of  Convenience,  when  we  are  those,  who  put  the  people 
to  the  inconvenience  of  spending  a  portion  of  the  Sunday  mornings  at  the 
services,  and  of  contributing  towards  their  support,  and  of  exerting  their 
utmost  to  restore  the  lost,  and  to  awaken  a  religious  feeling  and  interest 
among  those,  whom  the  hypocritical  and  farcical  Saturday-idolatry  had 
almost  driven  from  the  ranks  of  Israel. 

There  are  yet  other  idolatries  infesting  the  Jehovah  worship  of  Israel. 
There  is  the  Kippur-Dayf  idol.  What  a  rallying  on  that  day  of  the 
scattered  forces !  What  a  hurrying  to  the  synagogues 
The  Kigpur-Day  of  peopie)  who  never  see  the  inside  of  them  all  the  year 
round  !  What  a  fervor — or  what  farce — in  praying  and. 
fasting,  by  people,  who  perhaps  only  ceased  their  sinning  with  their 
entrance  and  will  resume  it  upon  their  exit,  and  follow  it  for  another 
year  !  What  supplications  by  the  pious  to  Jehovah,  who  (in  painful  con- 
tradiction of  the  Jewish  conception  of  Him  as  an  incorporeal  and  incom- 
prehensible spirit)  is  believed  to  hold  with  His  ministering  angels  awful 
court  in  heaven  on  that  day,  and  to  pronounce  and  seal  the  coming  year's 
destiny  for  each  mortal. 

There  is  the  Kaddish\  idol.     Well  may  the  most  stately  edifice,  the 

most  inspiring  choir,  the  most  eloquent  preacher,  envy  his  attractive 

Th  K  dd  h  -A      P°wers>  f°r  a^  these  combined  will  often  fail  to  bring 

people  into  the  House  of  Worship,  while  the  Kaddish-idol 

succeeds  in  bringing  them  there,  without  any  difficulty,  and  in  keeping. 

•Josephus,  Antiqu.  XII,  Chap,  vi,  2.    t  Atonement-Day.     tMourn«r's  Prayer. 


them  there  till  the  year  of  mourning  is  over,  to  the  day,  and  not  a  day 
longer,  and  in  keeping  them  away,  till  another  death  ushers  them  in  for 
another  year.  I  have  read  of  a  physician,  who  daily  offered  up  a  prayer 
to  God  to  prosper  his  profession,  by  visiting  many  people  with  sickness. 
Who  would  not  forgive  some  of  those  unfortunate  preachers,  who  are  not 
blessed  with  large  Saturday-attendance,  if  now  and  then,  they  would 
secretly  offer  up  a  prayer,  that  God  might  keep  them  supplied  at  least 
with  a  Kaddisb-Minyan,*  to  enable  them  to  conduct  services  at  all? 
Without  the  Kaddish-Idol,  I  know  not,  what  in  some  congregations,  would 
become  of  the  Jehovah-worship. 

There  is  the  Hebrew-language-Idol.     The  God,  of  whom,  on  the  one 
side,  omniscience  is  postulated  as  one  of  his  chief  attributes,  and  for 
whom  knowledge  of  all  languages,  and  of  all  hearts,  be- 
fore yet  tongue  utters  articulate  speech,  is  claimed,  is,    guag?ido?W  lan~ 
on  the  other  side  believed  to  listen  to  prayers  only  when 
offered  in  the  Hebrew  tongue.     And,  therefore,  are  poor  children  .  tor- 
tured into  learning  a  dead  language,  which  they  no  sooner  learn  than 
they  forget  it.     And  therefore,  are  whole  pages  of  Hebrew  prayers  of- 
fered and  read,  of  whose  meaning  the  reader  or  listener  is  as  innocent  as 
the  new-born  babe. 

And  there  are  yet  other  idolatries  in  connection  with  the  Jehovah 
worship,  such  as  the  insistence  upon  the  Oriental  fashion  of  worshipping 
with  covered  head,  with  praying- scarf,  and  phylacteries,    And  other  idols 
the  prohibition   of  instrumental  music   and   of  farnily- 
pews  in   the  House  of  Worship,  the  Bar  Mitzvah,  that  turns  a  lad  of 
thirteen  into  a  full-fledged  member  of  the  Congregation  of  Israel  upon 
reciting  a  Hebrew  Benediction  over  the  Scroll,  the  Matzotk\  diet  on  the 
Passover;  Shofar%  alarm  on  the  New  Year;  the  Hfezzttzol/i-amulets,  the 
Tashlich  Sin-transference,  and  a  host  of  others,  of  which  I  have  not  the 
time  to-day  to  speak. 

We  have  no  reason  to  feel  ashamed  that  a  Roman  General,  two 
thousand  years  ago,  found  our  Hoty  of  Holies  empty.  We  have  much 
reason  to  be  proud  that  that  emptiness  has  illumined  and  Before  trying-  to 
filled  the  earth,  that  the  Jehovah-idea  of  our  fathers  has  remove  others' 
conquered  half  the  world,  and  is  fast-conquering  the  sins,  we  must  re- 
other  half.  But  we  cannot  yet  rest  on  our  laurels,  and  move  our  own- 
flatter  ourselves  that  Israel's  monotheism  is  driving  idolatry  from  off  the 
face  of  the  earth.  Pure  monotheism  is  yet  a  rarity.  We  find  it  blazon- 
ing on  a  million  banners,  but  when  we  look  close,  we  rarely  find  it  free 
from  idolatrous  adulterations.  We  hear  loud  professions  of  belief  in  an 
invisible  and  incorporeal  and  inconceivable  God,  and  alongside  it:  a 
Trinity,  a  Holy  Family,  a  Mediator,  a  God  assuming  human  form,  and 
walking  the  earth  and  ascending  again,  bowing  before  images,  drinking 
and  eating  the  blood  and  body  of  God,  exorcising  evil  spirits  with  holy 
water,  and  many  others.  Much  work  remains  still  to  be  done  in  clean- 
ing pure  monotheism  from  its  idolatrous  accretions.  But  the  hand  that 
would  clean  others  must  be  clean  itself.  Before  looking  at  others'  sin, 
\ve  must  look  at  our  own.  Before  trying  to  remove  the  idolatries  of 
others,  we  must  first  remove  our  own  idolatrous  Jehovah-pollutions. 
Even  unto  us,  as  unto  Israel  in  the  wilderness,  apply  the  words  of  Moses: 
Thou  shall  have  no  other  gods,  beside  Jehovah! 

•Quorum  of  ten  adults  necessary  for  communal  prayer.    -(-Unleavened  Passover-bread. 

fRam's  horn. 


The  Law  of  Retribution. 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  February  28th,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx,  5.  6)  —  D'i)1™1?  ion  rwy  —  cm-'iy  rax  pj; 

(Exod.  xxxiv,  6.  7)  npr  X1?  HpJI  ----  1DH  311 

(Ecci.  iii,  8)  xjt?1?  r\xi  nnx1?  ny 


Sweet  is  the  low  murmur  of  the  sportive  rivulet;  sweet  the  soft  lullaby 
of  the  flower-rocking  zephyr  ;  sweet  the  dreamy  quiet  of  some  secluded 
forest  retreat.  Grand  is  the  noisy  sweep  of  the  swollen 
stream  ;  grand  are  the  mighty  ocean's  rapturous  embraces  naUire^'nstorm 
of  the  rock}r  shore;  grand  the  rushing  of  the  wind  o'er 
field  and  through  forest.  But  grandest,  most  majestic,  most  awe-inspi- 
ring of  all,  is  nature  in  her  wrath  and  fury,  rushing  with  the  hurricane 
through  the  forest,  splintering  and  laying  low  the  mighty  time-defying 
giants  as  if  they  were  so  many  reeds,  tearing  through  the  populous  cities, 
scattering  ruin  and  devastation  all  along  her  path  ;  or  when  with  deafen- 
ing thunder  she  roars  through  the  ill-presaging,  fast-flying  clouds,  or  leaps, 
astride  the  forked  and  blinding  lightning,  from  rattling  crag  to  crag  ; 
when  she  stirs  up  the  vast  ocean  to  its  lowest  depth,  and  hurls  its  frenzied 
waves  and  billows  against  the  strongest  crafts  of  man,  and  tosses  them 
about  as  if  they  were  so  many  straws,  and  sends  terror  and  dismay  into 
the  bravest  hearts  aboard  or  on  shore. 

Sweet  is  the  winsome  prattle  of  the  little  two-  or  three-year  old  ; 
sweet  the  little  nothings  breathed  by  lover  into  the  ears  of  his  beloved  ; 

sweet  the  placid  face  of  some  saint  at  prayer  ;  sweet  the 

,.          ...  _.   .          __,  .  :  ,      .     ,   .,        r^        Grandeurof  man 

angelic  voice  of  some  Sister  of  Mercy  at  the  bedside  of  the    in  righteous 

sick.  Grand  is  the  eloquence  of  the  inspired  orator  ;  grand  llldl«natlon 
are  the  weighty  words  that  drop  from  the  lips  of  the  hoary  -headed  master; 
grand  the  human  face  animated  with  sympathy  and  compassion  ;  grand 
the  fire  of  enthusiasm  flashing  from  the  eye  of  patriot.  But  grandest  of 
all  is  the  sight  of  man  burning  with  righteous  indignation,  from  whose 
eyes  dart  the  shafts  of  withering  scorn,  and  annihilating  contempt,  whose 
voice  thunders  forth  scathing  denunciations  of  the  wrong  done;  whose 
bosom  heaves  under  the  violence  of  his  outraged  feelings,  whose  hand  is 
raised  to  clutch  the  evil-doer  and  dash  him  to  destruction,  whose  foot 
stamps  the  floor  as  if  to  crush  the  viper  under  his  heel. 

Grand  is  that  Biblical  God-conception,  that  fancies  Him  spanning  the 
heavens  with  the  rainbow  as  his  everlasting  pledge  that  He  will  never 


again  curse  the  earth  or  smite  every  living  thing  as  He 
wrath  God   had  recently  done  with  the  flood  ;*  grander  that  other 


conception,  that  fancies  Him  declaring  in  the  hearing  of 
Moses,  that  He  is  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering  and  abundant  in 
goodness  and  truth,  rewards  the  righteous  unto  the  thousandth  genera- 
tion, roots  out  sin,  yet  never  lets  the  sinner  go  unpunished  ;t  but  the 
grandest,  the  most  awe-inspiring,  the  boldest  of  all,  is  that  God-concep- 
tion, that  represents  Him  on  Sinai's  top  burning  with  righteous  indigna- 
tion over  Israel's  speedy  turning  from  Him  to  the  worship  of  the  golden 
calf,  declaring  that  He  will  consume  them,  at  once,  in  the  fire  of  His 
wrath,  and  thus  have  done  with  them  forever.  | 

Grand  is  that  sketch  of  the  character  of  Moses,  that  represents  him 
pleading  with  God  for  sinful  Israel,  assuaging  His  wrath,  inducing  Him 

to  repent  of  the  evil  He  intended  to  bring  upon  Israel  ; 
Grandeur  of  ,  .,  ,  . 

Moses  in  his  just   grander  those  other  sketches,  thatdescnbe  his  courageous 

facing  and  pacifying  the  frequent  uprisings  and  seditions 
of  the  rebellious  people  ;  but  the  grandest  sketch  of  all  is  that,  which  tells 
of  his  exceeding  wrath  at  the  sight  of  Israel  dancing  about  the  golden 
calf,  of  his  hurling  the  two  tablets  of  stone,  on  which  the  Ten  Command- 
ments were  graven,  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  dashing  them  to  pieces, 
of  his  grinding  the  molten  calf  to  powder,  of  his  calling  the  faithful  to 
his  side  and  bidding  them  to  aid  him  in  exterminating  the  base  and  un- 
grateful idolators. 

The  gentle,  the  soft,  the  peaceful,  whether  in  scenery  or  in  character, 
is  ever  sweet,  ever  comforting,  ever  welcome.     Yet  there  is  a  grandeur 

in  storm,  in  agitation,  in  passionate  outburst  of  righteous 
ftormCar^naeeded  indignation,  in  inflicting  just  and  merited  punishment, 

that  is  never  reached  by  any  other  phase  of  nature,  or  by 
any  other  trait  of  man.  Both  are  needed  in  the  economy  of  existence. 
Both  have  their  time  and  place.  The  one  must  relieve  the  other  as  the 
night  relieves  the  day,  or  as  winter  alternates  with  summer.  The  dead 
calm  breeds  noxious  poisons.  Unbroken  quiet  breeds  mutual  stagnation 
and  moral  disease.  Peaceful  submission,  patient  bearing  of  the  yoke, 
nurtures  tyranny.  Unrebuked,  unpunished  wrong-doing  turns  right- 
doing  from  an  obligation  into  an  option.  The  belief  that  "  letting  well 
enough  alone  '  '  is  better  than  strife  and  agitation  and  exertion  is  the  doom 
of  progress.  The  violent  storm,  the  killing  frost,  the  roaring  thunder, 
the  flashing  lightning,  the  drenching  torrent,  all  these  are  indispensible 
needs  for  purifying  and  invigorating  earth  and  air.  The  loud  voice  of 
just  protest,  the  fearless  denunciation  of  wrong,  the  merciless  extirpation 
of  evil,  the  Moses's  thundering  defiance  into  the  ears  of  the  Pharaohs, 
and  storming  through  the  rebellious  camps,  sword  in  hand,  the  Nathans 
and  the  Knoxes  flinging  their  "Thou  art  the  man"  "Thou  art  the 
woman  "  in  the  face  of  voluptuous  and  murderous  kings  and  queens,  the 
Luthers  defying,  in  the  face  of  death,  corrupted  heads  of  Church  and 


*  G^n.  -viii.  9.        f  Exod.  xxxiv,  6.  7.        \  Exod.  xxxii. 


realm,  the  Patrick  Henrys  terrifying  base  henchmen  of  tyranny,  and 
inflaming  the  hearts  of  brave  patriots,  with  their  fiery  eloquence,  the 
William  Lloyd  Garrisons  preferring  to  be  dragged  through  the  streets 
with  halters  around  their  necks,  to  bridling  their  tongues  in  their  unspar- 
ing castigations  of  the  enemies  of  freedom,  all  these  are  men  and  means 
that  are  ever  needed  to  keep  the  fabric  of  society  sound  and  safe,  free  and 
progressive,  without  whose  timely  agitations  and  storms,  unsparing  sever- 
ities and  fearless  dispensation  of  just  and  deserved  punishment,  the  gen- 
tle and  the  sweet  and  the  peaceful  in  society  would  soon  become  an  utter 
impossibility. 

Indignation  over  conscious  and  heartless  wrong  done,  is  an  instinct 
of  human  nature.     To  see  crime  meet  with  its  deserved  punishment  is  as 

strong  a  yearning  of  our  souls  as  to  see  virtue  rewarded. 

Hatred  of  wrong 
Not  to  hate  the  oppressor,  not  to  loathe  the  vicious,  not    an  instinct  of  our 

to  desire  to  see  the  unrepentent  cruel  punished,  is  even  B 
more  revolting  to  the  rational  mind  than  not  loving  the  pure  and  the 
innocent,  the  true  and  the  good.  He  that  cannot  hate  the  wrong,  can- 
not truly  love  the  right.  If  too  weak  to  hate,  he  is  not  strong  enough  to 
love.  Great  lovers  of  mankind  are  great  haters  of  the  enemies  of  man. 
Great  patriots  are  great  haters  of  tyrants.  The  great  lovers  of  justice  and 
truth  have  ever  been  the  great  haters  of  injustice  and  falsehood.  To  love 
everything,  good  and  ,bad,  to  forgive  everything,  to  be  indifferent  to  the 
sway  of  wrong,  or  to  attempt  to  wipe  it  out  by  means  of  prayer-meeting 
whines,  or  emotional  sentirnentalism,  is  not  a  virtue, — if  not  a  mental 
aberration,  it  is  a  social  crime. 

Rational  man  is  so  constituted  that,  whether  he  will  or  not,  he  must 
love  the  right  and  hate  the  wrong.     It  was  Goethe  who  preached  that 

"  Man's  nature,  in  its  narrow  scope,  demands 
The  twofold  sentiment  of  love  and  hate." 

(Torquato  Tasso,  Act  IV,  Sc.  ii.) 

One  may  deliver  honey-tongued  sermons,  or  write  sweet-scented  essays, 
on  the  beauties  of  loving  all  and  forgiving  everything.  But  to  do  this, 

one  must  lock  himself  within  his  study  or  church,  and 

So,  too,  the  desire 
walk  the  streets  blindfolded,  and  close  his  ears  against   to  see  it  justly 

hearing  the  soul-harrowing  stories  of  injustice  and  cruelty,  put 
and  never  permit  book  and  newspaper  to  come  into  his  hand,  and  never 
set  his  foot  in  the  districts  of  the  vicious  and  criminal,  in  the  criminal 
court  or  in  the  morgue.  To  do  this,  one  must  never  read  of  Russian 
Siberian  outrages  and  Jewish  persecutions,  never  hear  religious  peoples' 
angelic  professions  in  their  churches,  and  devilish  practices  outside  of 
them,  never  see  a  son's  heartless  treatment  of  his  aged  and  helpless 
mother,  or  a  brutal  husband  strike  weak  and  defenseless  wife  and  chil- 
dren, never  see  a  millionaire  landlord  turning  in  mid-winter  a  poverty- 
ridden  family  into  the  streets,  never  hear  of  innocence  betrayed  or  assault- 
ed. To  do  this,  one  must  never  feel  the  pang  of  seeing  his  own  name  and 
purposes  maligned,  the  honor  of  his  own  family  besmirched,. of  having 
his  own  hard-earned  savings  torn  from  him,  of  seeing  his  own  just  rights 


trampled  upon,  of  baring  his  own  back  to  the  tyrant's  cruel  lash.  If  then 
he  can  love  him  who  has  but  hate  for  him,  if  then  he  can  forgive  him  who 
effected  his  and  his  family's  ruin  and  shame,  if  then  he  can  kiss  the  hand 
that  smites  him,  if  then  he  can  say  in  the  language  of  Shylock  : 

"  Fair  sir,  you  spit  on  me  on  Wednesday  last ; 
You  spurned  me  such  a  day  ;  another  time 
You  call'd  me— dog  ;  and  for  these  courtesies  " 

I'll  offer  you  my  love  and  my  esteem, — if  this  he  do,  he  is  not  respon- 
sible for  his  sayings  and  doings.  The  church  may  canonize  him,  but 
rational  people  will  most  probably  regard  him  as  one  whose  mind  has 
been  unbalanced  by  excess  of  suffering. 

The  authors  of  the  Bible  give  us  in  each  of  the  Testaments,  and  in 
the  most  illustrious  personages  of  each,  striking  confirmations  of  the 

truth  of  the  perhaps  strange-sounding  doctrines,  which  I 
Moses    h&ve  just  ennunciated,  namely,  that  hatred  of  wrong  is 

as  much  of  an  instinct  of  human  nature  as  is  the  love  of 
right,  and  that  it  is  easier  to  write  and  talk  of  the  virtue  of  loving  all 
characters  and  forgiving  all  offenses,  than  to  practice  it  when  brought 
face  to  face  with  them.  The  Old  Testament  tells  of  Moses  that  he  was 
very  meek,  more  than  any  other  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth,*  and  his 
actions  and  words,  in  many  instances,  f  prove  that  this  was  not  unmerited 
praise.  But  in  the  presence  of  insolence  and  cruelty  and  grievous  wrong, 
that  meekness  frequently  changes  into  burning  indignation.  There  is 
little  meekness  in  his  murderous  onslaught  on  the  Egyptian  taskmaster 
for  cruel  treatment  of  one  of  his  down-trodden  brethren.  J  Fervent  and 
touching  is  his  supplication  on  Sinai's  height,  that  God  may  forgive  the 
idolatry  of  his  way  ward  people,  and  not  exterminate  them,  and  it  is  no 
small  compliment  to  him  that  his  eloquence  and  logic  and  influence 
should  have  succeeded  in  annulling  the  fatal  decree.  But  what  differ- 
ence between  the  Moses  at  the  top,  and  the  Moses  at  the  bottom,  of  the 
mountain  !  When  his  own  eyes  beheld  the  people's  ravings  around  their 
molten  idol,  he  thought  no  more  of  his  eloquent  entreaty  for  forgiveness, 
nor  of  his  logical  argument,  which  had  proved  so  powerful  with  God. 
His  wrath  waxed  exceedingly  hot,  and  with  sword  in  hand,  and  with  an 
armed  force  at  his  side,  he  himself  entered  upon  that  very  extermination, 
which  but  a  short  time  before  he  had  prevented  God  from  doing.  On  top, 
he  merely  talked  about  what  he  saw  not  and  felt  not ;  at  the  bottom,  he 
saw  and  felt  the  wrong,  and  seeing  and  feeling  it  meant  hating  it,  and 
an  eager  desire  to  punish  its  perpetrators  to  prevent  its  repetition. 

We  have  a  somewhat  similar  illustration  in  the  New  Testament  of 
the  difference  between  theoretic  love  and  forgiveness  of  the  wrong-doer, 

and  the  hatred  of  him  when  brought  in  real  contact  with 
"d  Jesus.    nim-     Nowhere  perhaps  is  the  lesson  of  loving  the  enemy, 

of  forgiving  offense,  of  patiently  submitting  to  outrage, 
more  forcibly  inculcated  than  in  the  Gospels.  The  Christian  is  there  rig- 
idly enjoined  to  resist  no  evil,  to  turn  also  the  right  cheek  to  him  who 

*  Numb,  xii,  3.        tCf.  Numb.  xi.  xii.  xiv.  xvi.        tExod,  ii,  11-12, 


•smites  him  on  the  left,  lo  surrender  also  the  cloak  to  him  who  takes  his 
•coat,  to  do  good  to  him  that  harms  him,  and  to  suffer,  without  resent- 
ment and  punishment,  a  number  of  other  insults  and  indignities  and 
wrongs.  But  as  beautiful  as  these  lessons  were  to  listen  to  and  to  read, 
so  impossible  were  they  for  real  practice,  and  not  only  for  those  to  whom 
•they  were  enjoined,  but  even  to  Jesus  himself,  who  enjoined  them.  Those 
bitter  invectives,  which  he,  according  to  the  Gospel  stories,  hurled  at  the 
heads  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  betoken  little  love  of  the  enemy,  less 
of  blessing  those  that  cursed  him,  and  least  of  non-resistance  of  evil. 
•One  is  at  a  loss  to  find  even  a  trace  of  love  and  forgiveness  in  such  abus- 
ive epithets  as  "you  hypocrites,"  "you  whited  sepulchres,"  "  you  fools 
and  blind,"  "  you  serpents,  you  generation  of  vipers."*  His  rushing  into 
•the  Temple-court,  scourge  in  hand,  driving  out  those  that  offered  there 
sacrificial  animals  for  sale,  over-turning  the  tables  of  those  that  exchanged 
the  money  of  foreign  Jews,  who  came  to  bring  their  offerings,  and  denoun- 
cing them  as  thieves, f  may  witness  to  his  pious  zeal,  and  to  his  wrathful 
indignation  over  what  to  him  seemed  a  wrong,  but  it  is  poor  practice  of 
his  own  doctrine  of  loving  the  enemy,  of  resisting  no  evil,  of  doing  good 
to  those  that  do  wrong,  and  the  like.  And  if  impossible  for  the  lawgiver 
himself  to  practice  his  own  laws,  we  can  not  be  surprised  at  the  non- 
observance  of  these  precepts  by  almost  the  whole  Christian  world,  from 
the  time  they  were  first  given  to  this  day.  Their  fearful  contentions, 
their  bloody  wars,  frightful  massacres,  terrible  persecutions,  their  racks 
and  blocks  and  stakes  and  gibbets,  their  crowded  penitentiaries,  their 
clerical  hatreds,  their  social  ostracisms  and  restrictions,  all  these  tell  but 
too  plainly  the  truth  that  man  cannot  love  all  his  enemies,  nor  forgive 
all  offenses,  nor  submit  to  all  insults  and  outrages,  nor  to  let  all  wrong- 
doers go  unpunished. 

And  he  cannot,  because  he  shall  not.     It  may  seem  brutal  to  the  sen- 
timental emotionalist,  but  without  it  we  all  would  still  have  been  brutes. 
Moral  evolution  is  not  a  hot-house  plant,  or  a  prayer- 
meeting  product.     It  will   not  thrive  on  rose-water  or   clpe^uJJishme'S 
honeyed  sentiments.     It  must  wrestle  with  the  elements. 
.Its  soil  must  be  saturated  with  blood.     Pain  and  despair  must  moan  and 
groan  through  its  branches.     It  must  endure  the  summer's  scorching 
shafts  and  the  winter's  biting  frosts,  before  it  can  grow  into  a  tree  fit  to 
grace  a  Paradise. 

Sin  shall  not  escape  the  condemnation  of  the  righteous  nor  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  just  is  a  law  graven  on  our  hearts.     It  is  our  soul's  inheri- 
tance from  God.     It  is  its  dower  received  from  the  hand 
of  Nature  herself.     For  it  is  thus  that  God  and  nature    "i^JffiuSSS? 
•deal  with  wrong,  and  thus  have  they  ever  dealt  with  it. 
It  is  that  law,  which  modern  scholars  have  only  now  succeeded  in  grasp- 
ing, and  in  turning  into  a  science,  but  which  the  Old  Testament  writers 
have  formulated  thousands  of  years  ago,   and  have  deemed  important 
venough  to  place  among  the  very  first  of  their  Ten  Commandments.     It  is 


*  St.  Mat.  xxiii,  13-33.        |St.  John  ii ;  St.  Mark  xi. 


that  command,  which,  told  in  the  language  of  modern  science,  says  that 
the  Laws  of  Nature  are  eternal,  immutable,  inviolable.  If  heeded  and 
obeyed,  they  yield  their  blessed  reward,  even  to  remote  generations,  but 
if  transgressed,  punishment  is  sure  to  follow,  and  transmit  itself  to  future 
descendants.  Fire  shall  give  ns  warmth,  shall  aid  our  industries,  shall 
further  our  progress,  shall  benefit  by  its  helpful  service  not  only  us  but 
also  those  that  shall  come  after  us.  But  if  we  heed  not  its  laws,  or  trans- 
gress against  them,  it  will  turn  from  an  abject  slave  to  an  inexorable 
tyrant,  and  smite  us  painfully,  fatally,  or  lay  our  proudest  possessions  in 
ashes,  no  matter  whether  home  or  school,  church  or  hospital.  Water, 
like  fire,  has  been  given  ns  to  be  one  of  the  supports  of  life.  But  if  we 
wantonly  violate  its  laws,  or  fail  to  exercise  the  necessary  care,  it  will 
injure  or  destroy  those  whom  before  it  aided  and  blessed,  and  neither 
prayer  nor  bribe  will  stay  its  destruction  till  its  wrath  has  spent  itself. 
Air  is  to  serve  us  as  the  main  stay  of  life.  Every  breath  of  it  is  to  send 
new  currents  of  strength  and  energy  and  health  into  our  system.  But 
if  we  wantonly  expose  ourselves  to  it  when  it  is  chill  and  damp,  if  we 
neglect  to  preserve  its  purity,  if  we  suffer  it  to  become  contaminated  with 
filth  and  pollution,  it  will  change  from  benefactor  to  implacable  enemy, 
poison  our  system,  no  matter  whether  we  be  saint  or  sinner,  torture  us 
with  disease,  and  not  infrequently  transmit  its  poison  and  its  torture  even 
to  our  children  and  children's  children. 

What  is  true  of  the  Laws  of  Nature  is  equally  true  of  the  Laws  of 
Morality.  They,  too,  are  inviolable.  No  one  can  transgress  against  them 
with  impunity.  No  one  can  defy  them  without  bringing 
i>w  of  Heredity  punishment  upon  himself— worse  still,  without  transmit- 
ting that  punishment  to  his  children  and  children's  chil- 
dren. If  he  corrupts  himself,  the  corruption  will  long  cling  to  him  and 
his,  and  wreak  its  vengeance  till  •eliminated.  If  he  wantonly  saps  his 
vitality,  a  weak  and  degenerated  posterity  will  testify  to  the  sin  of  its 
ancestry.  If  he  bring  shame  upon  his  name,  three  and  four  generations 
will  pass  before  it  will  be  erased  from  the  family's  escutcheon  or  con- 
science.* 

The  punishment  may  be  slow  in  coming,  but  come  it  will.  God,  as 
the  Old  Testament  writer  already  observed,  is  patient  and  long-suffering, 

but  He  never  lets  the  sinner  go  unpunished,  and  the  pun- 
Punishment  may  .  TT-  • 
be  slow  in  com-  ishment  often  is  all  the  severer  for  His  longer  patience, 
ing— but  it  comes  The  storm  is  never  so  violent  and  never  so  destructive 
as  when  it  conies  after  a  long  dead  calm.  The  avenging  hand  that  is 
slowest  to  rise,  often  deals  the  quickest  and  most  telling  blows.  So  true 
is  this,  that  it  has  become  a  proverb  of  every  literature-possessing  people. 
'"The  mill  of  the  gods  grinds  late,  but  it  grinds  to  powder"  spake  the 
ancient  Greeks.  "  The  feet  of  the  avenging  deities  are  shod  with  wool," 
"God  has  His  own  time  and  His  own  way,"  wrote  the  ancient  Romans. 
"So  long  goes  the  pitcher  to  the  well,  till  its  handle  breaks  "  is  the  fam- 
iliar adage  of  the  Germans.  "God  comes  with  leaden  feet,  but  strikes 

*For  fuller  treatment,  see  lecture  :  Heredity,  Series  III,  No,  18. 


with  iron  hand  "  is  a  common  English  saying.  And  in  like  manner  do 
the  other  civilized  peoples  of  the  earth  confirm  the  truth,  that  in  the 
divine  dispensation  of  justice  sentence  delayed  does  not  mean  sin  over- 
looked, or  pardoned. 

"  Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly, 
Yet  they  grind  exceeding  small ; 
Though  with  patience  He  stands  waiting, 
With  exactness  grinds  He  all." 

Friedr.  von  Logau,  Transl.  by  Henry  W.  Longfellow: . 

But,  though  a  truth,  universally  recognized,  and  confirmed  by  centu- 
ries of  experience,  long-deferred  punishment  has  ever  encouraged  the 
sinner  in  his  evil,  and  perplexed  the  righteous.  Already  in  Biblical  times, . 
Koheleth  preached  :  "  Because  sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not  exe- 
cuted speedily,  therefore  the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them 
to  do  evil."*  And  the  question:  "Why  does  the  sinner  prosper?"  is. 
already  the  despairing  cry  of  Job.  Job  judged  the  sinner  by  outward 
appearances,  and  pronounced  him  happy  and  spared,  before  yet  he  had 
seen  his  or  his  children's  last  days.  He  could  not  peer  into  the  sinner's 
conscience,  and  see  there  the  harrowing  scenes  and  ghastly  processions, 
such  as  Hamlet  has  enacted  before  his  father's  murderer  or  such  as  haunt 
the  sleep  or  dreams  of  Richard  III  ;  nor  had  he  heard  the  words  that 
Solon  spake  to  the  wealthy  and  powerful  Croesus  :  '  No  man  is  to  be 
deemed  happy  till  he  has  ended  in  a  happy  way,'  to  which  we  may  add, 
or  until  his  children  or  children's  children  have  ended  in  a  happy  way. 
When  Jacob  returned  from  his  uncle  Laban  blessed  with  wives  and  chil- 
dren, and  with  a  great  abundance  of  earthly  goods,  it  is  likely  that  his 
neighbors  shook  their  heads  and  said  :  ' '  This  man  deceived  his  old  and 
blind  father,  and  defrauded  his  brother,  and  for  his  punishment  he  has 
wealth  and  power  and  influence  and  happiness.  What  good  in  being 
righteous,  when  evil  yields  such  rich  rewards?"  A  score  of  years  later, 
when  hearing  of  the  loss  of  his  favorite  wife  and  son,  of  the  contentions 
and  vices  and  strifes  of  his  children,,  of  the  miseries  and  sorrows  of  his 
old  age,  they  perhaps  recognized  that  there  is  retribution,  that  punish- 
ment may  tarry  long,  yet  come  it  will.  "There  is  no  God,  there  is  no 
Justice,  else  this  fiend  Robespierre  would  long  since  have  been  struck 
down  by  his  vengeance,"  moaned,  perhaps,  the  terror-stricken  people  of 
Paris  during  the  Reign  of  Terror.  But  when  they  saw  his  head  drop  from 
the  guillotine,  perhaps  they  bowed  their  heads  and  said  :  "  There  is  retri- 
butive justice  even  in  this  world."  Those  were  true  words  which  Anne 
of  Austria,  Queen  of  France,  said  to  Cardinal  Richelieu,  her  implacable 
enemy  :  "My  Lord  Cardinal,  there  is  one  fact  which  you  seem  to  have 
entirely  forgotten.  God  is  a  sure  paymaster.  He  may  not  pay  at  the 
end  of  every  week  or  month  or  year  ;  but  I  charge  you,  remember  that 
He  pays  in  the  end." 

Our  impatience  over  God's  patience  often  prevents  our  seeing  that 
Retributive  Justice  moves  slowly,  imperceptibly,  but  not  the  less  surely,. 

*Eccl.  viii.  2. 


like  the  small  hand  across  the  dial  plate.     We  may  not 

G^^tience!"   see  i1:  move>  ^ut  when  the  hour  for  striking  comes,  it  is 
at  the  striking  place. 

"  There  is  a  time,  and  justice  marks  the  date, 
For  long-forbearing  clemency  to  wait ; 
That  hour  elapsed,  the  incurable  revolt 
Is  punished,  and  down  comes  the  thunder-bolt."        Cowper. 

You  step  into  your  garden  after  the  storm  has  spent  its  force,  and  are 
amazed  to  find  the  strongest,  proudest  tree  prostrate  on  the  ground.  It 
had  all  along  seemed  to  you  the  embodiment  of  strength.  You  examine 
it,  and  you  no  longer  wonder  why.  The  bark  has  hid  from  view  a  rotten 
interior.  For  years,  the  slow  process  of  decay  has  been  going  on  within,, 
till  corruption  had  eaten  out  its  very  core,  and  when  the  storm  came,  it 
toppled  over,  as  if  it  were  some  toy-tree  from  some  child's  Noah's  ark_ 
In  this  fallen  tree  you  see  the  symbol  of  some  of  your  apparently  healthy 
and  happy  and  prosperous  men  of  sin.  For  years,  they  have  gone  on 
dissipating,  corrupting,  sinning,  against  the  Laws  of  Nature  and  Morality.. 
Outwardly  they  bear  the  signs  of  prosperity,  of  health,  of  happiness.  But 
the  moral  rottenness  is  eating  deeper  and  deeper,  till,  when  least  expected, 
you  see  them  prostrate  in  incurable  disease,  in  death,  or  in  chains  in 
some  penitentiary ;  and  the  Cain's  sign  of  disease  and  sin  and  shame 
stamped  deep  upon  their  families. 

To  our  poor  understanding  the  suffering  of  innocent  posterity  for  the 
sins  of  ancestry  often  seems  unjust,  and  a  poor  verification  of  the  Biblical 

claim,  that  God  is  merciful  and  gracious  and  abundant  in 
Posterity's  brief  .  . 

suffering  for          goodness,  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  awful  decree.* 

stry's  sm.  gu^  ^s  verv  (Jecree,  awful  as  it  seems,  may  perhaps  con- 
tain one  of  the  strongest  proofs  of  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God.  In- 
visiting  punishment  for  transgression  against  inviolable  natural  and  moral 
laws,  God  has  not  His  own  but  man's  and  society's  good  in  view.  If 
these  laws  could  be  transgressed  with  impunity  there  never  would  be,, 
nor  could  be,  any  civilization  or  morality.  If  man  has  transgressed,  he- 
must  suffer,  that  he  may  not .  transgress  again  ;  and  that  others  may  be 
deterred  by  the  example  of  his  sufferings  ;  and  society  shall  suffer,  that 
it  may  see  to  it  that  such  transgressions  be  not  again  committed.  But 
often — while  the  wrong  done  inflicts  its  punishment  within  the  flesh  and 
mind  and  conscience  of  the  wrong-doer — it  escapes  punishment  without, 
and  the  deterrent  object  of  punishment  is  thereby  lost.  Therefore,  in 
visiting  the  sins  of  the  parents  upon  their  offspring,  the  deterrent  purpose 
of  punishment  is  not  only  attained,  but  even  in  a  more  striking  degree.. 
Their  innocent  sufferings  appeal  all  the  stronger  to  the  hearts  of  men,, 
and  act  as  a  more  powerful  check  on  their  evil  inclinations  For,  how- 
ever indifferent  a  man  may  be  as  to  the  painful  consequences  of  his  wrongs 
on  strangers,  he  is  apt  to  be  deeply  touched  at  the  thought  that  his  own 
progeny,  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  should  innocently  be  made  to  suffer 
physically  or  mentally  or  morally  or  socially,  because  of  uncurbed  indul- 

•Exod.  xxxiv,  6.  7. 


gence  of  his  passions  or  appettites  or  greeds.  Who  knows  not  of  instances 
of  temptations  resisted,  of  evil  passions  subdued,  of  bad  habits  conquered, 
by  parents,  so  as  not  to  bring  disgrace  and  suffering  upon  their  innocent 
children  ?  God  may  have  his  own  way  for  compensating  the  sufferings  of 
the  innocent,  but  that  evil  may  the  speedier  be  rooted  out,  that  man  may 
be  the  better  deterred  from  wrong-doing,  that  the  greatest  good  of  the 
greatest  number  may  the  speedier  be  secured,  heroic  measures  must  be 
resorted  to.  A  few  innocents  must  suffer  to  appall  the  many  and  to 
keep  them  innocent. 

Whether  this  be  the  reason  why  the  sins  of  parents  are  visited  upon 
their  progeny,  or  whether  there  be  other  reasons  more  plausible  than  this, 
the  fact  remains  that  it  is,  and  has  been,  a  Law  of  Nature, 
and  in  all  probability  will  contiime  so,  whether  we  think  reward  for  auces- 
it  just  or  not.  If  we  think  it  unjust,  we  have  an  easy  way  try  s  virtue- 
of  preventing  it  from  afflicting  our  descendants,  by  not  furnishing  it  with 
any  sins  of  our  own  to  be  visited  upon  them.  Let  us  guard  our  health, 
purity,  integrity,  honor,  and  we  will  guard  our  children's  at  the  same 
time,  and  that  of  their  children's  children,  too,  even  unto  the  thousandth 
generation.  We  will  then  no  longer  question  God's  kindness  and  mercy, 
seeing,  that  while  God's  punishment  of  parental  sin  seldom  extends  over 
more  than  three  or  four  generations  of  posterity,  His  reward  of  parental 
virtue  extends  even  unto  the  remotest  descendants. 

The  room,  in  which  some  fragrant  flower  has  bloomed,  retains  the 
odor  long  after  the  plant  has  been  removed.  A  room  once  flavored  by 
musk,  retains  its  odor  even  after  the  lapse  of  many  years.  The  western  sky 
reflects  the  glory  of  the  sun,  long  after  it  sinks  beneath  the  horizon.  A 
parent's  pure  life  and  good  name  and  virtuous  deeds  transmit  them- 
selves to  their  children,  and  reap  their  reward  and  blessing  long  after 
their  author  is  no  more.  Let  parents  leave  their  children  only  wealth, 
and  a  generation  or  two  hence  may  see  that  wealth  disgrace  posterity  and 
ancestry,  and  fly  away.  Let  them  bequeath  to  their  children  health, 
virtue,  good  deed,  brain,  and  even  centuries  hence  doors  and  hearts  will 
open  wide  to  their  children,  either  for  their  own  sakes,  or  in  memory  of 
their  noble  ancestry.  A  century  ago  Russia  manifested  kindly  feelings 
towards  our  country  while  in  distress,  and  the  steamer  Indiana,  that 
hastened,  laden  with  food,  from  our  port  on  Monday  last  to  relieve  the 
famine-stricken,  demonstrated  how  the  virtues  of  parents  are  remem- 
bered even  on  their  distant  descendants.  The  worthy  progeny  of  dis- 
tinguished patriots,  leaders,  scholars,  benefactors,  find  opportunities  and 
positions,  for  which  men  of  obscure  origin  often  struggle  in  vain.  No 
parental  virtue  is  lost.  Its  every  healthy  drop,  its  every  noble  thought, 
its  every  good  word,  its  every  pure  example,  is  a  seed  cast  in  the  field  of 
Time,  which  blooms  and  ripens  blessed  fruit  through  all  Eternity. 


Reverence  to  whom  Reverence  belongs. 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  March  6th,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx.  7)  xijy1?  yn^x  rprr  Dty  r\N 

(Exod.  xxii.  28)  -ixn   X1?  10;%2   JTBUl   ^pn  K1? 
(Talmud,  "Aboth"  19,  a)  o'Diy  X11O3  pi  *O1O   '7T 

"  The  service  past,  around  the  pious  man, 
With  steady  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 
E'en  children  follow'd  with  endearing  wile, 
And  pluck'd  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man'ssmile." 

Goldsmith's  The  Deserted  Village. 

Thus  wrote  Goldsmith,  the  poet.     But,  though  a  poet's  writing,  it 
stands  by  no  means  for  a  poetic  fancy.     Such  was  the  reverence  shown 

to  village  parsons  in  the  time  of  Goldsmith,  and  such  is 

,  .        Treatment  of 
still  shown  them  in  the  rural  distncts  of  Europe,  and  in    clergy  in  former 

the  entire  Orient.  In  these  quiet  and  conservative  com-  times  an<1  abroad 
munities  the  preacher  is  still  regarded  a  holy  man,  singled  out,  by  special 
call  from  the  power  on  High,  to  prepare  human  lives  and  souls  for  the 
spiritual  life  that  is  to  be.  As  God's  vicegerents,  almost  divine  virtues 
are  attributed  to  them,  and  godly  honors  are  shown  .to  them.  Their  mere 
presence  awes,  hushes  the  loud  voice,  checks  the  quick  step.  Their  touch 
of  hand  calms  the  disquieted  soul.  Their  word  of  sympathy  is  healing 
balm  to  the  lacerated  heart  Their  word  of  praise  inspires  the  soul  ;  their 
word  of  rebuke  terrifies  it.  Their  blessing  proves  a  blessing,  their  curse 
becomes  a  curse. 

In  the  larger  European  cities,  however,  and  all  over  our  own  country, 
the  reverence  that  once  hedged  the  minister  has  almost  wholly  fled. 
There  and  here,  he  is  but  rarely  regarded  as  the  God- 
appointed  and  God-anointed.  If  he  is  a  man  of  distinction,  Its  treatmc"h:ere 
a  scholar,  an  orator,  a  benefactor,  he  meets  with  the  recog- 
nition and  the  respect  that  are  generally  accorded  to  such  merits.  If  his 
abilities  fall  short  of  the  public's  reasonable  expectations,  and  his  actions 
belie  his  professions,  his  sacred  calling  will  not  shield  him  from  contempt. 
Not  infrequently,  such  contempt  extends  even  to  ministers  of  better  des- 
ert. His  utterances  are  no  longer  accepted  as  oracles  ;  and  so  far  are 
people  now-a-days  from  considering  it  irreverent  to  question  or  criticize 
aught  he  says,  that  few  public  persons  are  more  severely  scrutinized  or 
more  mercilessly  dissected  than  the  preachers.  Old  and  young,  learned 


and  ignorant,  pure  and  impure,  deem  it  their  prerogative  to  carp,  and 
sneer,  and  poke  fun  at  the  minister.  Not  a  few  regard  him  as  a  sort  of 
luxury,  maintained  at  a  considerable  expense  to  entertain  women  and 
children,  and  to  frighten  the  simple  and  wicked  with  horrible  ghost  stories; 
while  quite  a  sprinkling  vehemently  clamor  for  his  suppression  to  pre- 
vent his  perpetuating  ancient  superstitions  or  his  continuing  to  clog  the 
wheel's  of  progress. 

What  may  the  reason  be  of  this  contrast  between  the  treatment  of 
the  ministry  in  former  times  and  now  ?  It  cannot  be  due  to  mental  and 
moral  inferiority,  for  never  before  has  the  ministry  been  so  thoroughly 
educated,  never  before  has  it  stood  on  so  high  a  moral  plane,  never  before 
has  it  labored  so  intensely  in  all  movements  aiming  at  the  amelioration 
of  suffering  and  at  the  elevation  of  the  human  family,  as  does  the  clergy 
at  the  present  day. 

Not  in  a  deteriorated  ministry,  therefore,  must  the  true  reason  of  this 

contrast  be  sought,  but,  most  likely,  in  that  iconoclastic  spirit,  that  has 

taken  possession  of  our  age,  and  has  extinguished  the 

Difference  due  to  5  -,     f-  j  j  t,   1-    r    r 

iconoclastic  spirit  halo  of  reverence  around  objects  and  men  and  beliefs  for- 
merly regarded  with  feelings  of  awe.  From  the  time  that 
science  lifted  the  veil  of  mystery,  turned  its  light  full  on  creeds  and  dog- 
mas, turned  miracles  into  natural  phenomena,  and  revelations  into  imagi- 
nations, swept  with  its  telescope-broom  the  cobwebs  of  superstition  from 
the  skies,  extinguished  the  hell-fires  in  the  interior  of  the  earth,  and 
chased  the  spirits  of  evil  from  their  hiding-places,  a  change  has  come  over 
the  spirits  of  men.  Fear  has  turned  into  sport,  conviction  into  doubt, 
belief  into  unbelief.  Everything  is  questioned,  and  whatever  no  longer 
satisfies  is  discarded,  often  the  good  with  the  bad,  the  kernel  with  the 
shell,  the  grain  with  the  husk.  Levity  in  some  quarters  has  become 
fashionable,  and  scoffing  passes  for  wit.  The  venerable  does  not  awe, 
and  the  ancient  does  not  impress.  The  knee  has  forgotten  the  bend  of 
homage,  and  the  head  the  bow  of  reverence.  Humble  God-worship  and 
reverential  hero-worship  have  turned  into  arrogant  worship  of  self  and  of 
pelf. 

Of  our  own  country,  and  of  many  of  our  own  people  has  this  been 
especially  true.  "The  American  has  little  reverence"  is  the  common, 
and  the  not  altogether  unjust,  complaint  of  foreigners. 
£?edve0re^'ceeriCan  He  is  but  of  yesterday,  and  only  that  of  yesterday  has 
real  merit  in  his  eyes.  His  country  is  full  of  novelties 
but  empty  of  antiquities.  His  speculative  mind  is  prospective  ;  he  has 
not  yet  quietened  down  to  the  retrospective.  He  knows  not  that  awe 
that  overcomes  the  Orientalist,  when  standing  before  some  monument 
or  relic  or  handiwork  of  an  ancestor  of  thousands  of  years  ago.  In  his 
eyes  the  ancient  is  the  effete,  and  an  historic  ruin  is  a  heap  of  rubbish 
that  ought  to  be  removed.  One  is  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  Mark 
Twain  indulged  in  a  little  satire  rather  than  in  a  bit  of  humor,  when  he 
makes  one  of  his  companions,  upon  being  shown  a  manuscript  letter  of 
Christopher  Columbus'  own  hand-writing,  declare,  that  he  had  seen  boys 


in  America  only  fourteen  years  old  that  could  write  better  than  that,  and 
wondered  why  so  much  fuss  should  be  made  over  such  poor  handwriting, 
or  when  he  introduces  other  similar  opinions  on  works  of  the  ancient 
masters,  or  on  mementos  of  ancient  events.  The  vastness  of  his  own 
country,  its  fabulous  productiveness,  its  NiSgara  and  Yellowstone  and 
Yosemite,  its  great  oceans  to  its  right  and  left,  its  vast  lakes  and  .plains 
and  mountain  systems  between,  have  so  sated  his  mind  as  almost  to  make 
him  incapable  of  wonderment.  He  is  rarely  awed  by  scenic  grandeur,  or 
humbled  into  reverence  by  his  unparalleled  blessings.  He  is  a  practical, 
matter-of-fact  man,  with  little  poetry  or  sentiment  or  veneration  in  his 
soul. 

As  a  citizen  of  a  republic  he  has  no  royalty  to  enforce  homage,  and 
no  aristocracy  to  command  respect.  He  is  a  hero-worshipper,  but  the 
hero  worshipped  is  himself.  If  a  man  of  wealth,  he  looks  upon  himself, 
and  is  looked  upon  by  others,  as  the  peer  of  the  best  in  the  land,  no  mat- 
ter whether  a  quarter  or  half  a  century  ago  he  trudged  behind  the  plow, 
or  went  from  house  to  house  as  a  vender  of  small  wares,  or  toiled  as  a 
common  laborer  in  mine  or  mill  or  shop,  or  whether  he  be  still  lacking 
the  elements  of  a  good  education.  Obscure  as  his  origin  is,  he  knows 
that  it  is  but  the  counterpart  of  that  of  most  of  the  others  of  his  wealthy 
confreres,  and  he  feels  no  humiliation. .  On  the  contrary,  he  rather  prides 
himself,  and  well  he  may,  with  being  a  self-made  man,  with  being 
indebted  for  his  fortune  only  to  his  own  brain  and  brawn.  But  unfortu- 
nately, that  pride  is  frequently  accompanied  by  that  self-assurance,  self- 
importance,  arrogance,  that  has  no  regard  for  the  inferior,  no  respect  for  the 
superior  in  brain  and  skill;  no  reverence  for  the  self-sacrificing  trainer 
of  the  young,  and  educator  and  comforter  and  helper  of  the  old  and  sor- 
rowing and  suffering,  no  feeling  of  gratitude  towards  Him  from  whom 
all  his  blessings  flo\*  The  creed  of  many  of  these  newly  rich  reads  some- 
what like  this:  I  am  the  God,  who  brought  me  out  of  poverty  and  obscu- 
rity; there  is  no  other  God  beside  me. 

This  irreverence,  if  not  already  a  tendency  of  our  age,  and  a  trait  of 
the  American  character,  certainly  receives  enough  of  encouragement  in 
many  of  our  households,  notably  in  the  relationship  between  parents  and 
their  children,  and  in  our  public  life  in  the  relationship  between  the 
people  and  their  officers,  between  teacher  and  pupils,  and  in  our  religious 
life  in  the  relationship  between  the  people  and  their  God,  soon  to  make 
it  so. 

As  a  nursery  for  the  development  of  reverence,  there  is  none  better 
than  the  home.  To  the  infant  mind  the  parents  stand  as  its  God.  Their 
tender  and  patient  care,  their  fond  love  and  self-sacrifice,  observed  in  rela- 
impress  themselves  upon  its  yet  unconscious  mind  as  the  parents>audWeen 
Love  and  Power  Supreme.  One  needs  but  listen  to  dis-  children, 
cussions  between  little  children  on  the  relative  greatness  between  parents 
and  God.,  to  satisfy  himself  of  the  superior  position  parents  hold  in  the 
hearts  and  minds  of  children.  I  remember  overhearing  such  a  conversa- 
tion between  a  little  boy  and  girl,  in  which  both  settled  it  to  their  fullest 


satisfaction,  that  their  Papa  and  Mamma  were  greater  than  God,  the  girl 
basing  her  argument  on  the  fact  that  they  gave  her  her  clothes  and  toys 
and  candies,  and  the  boy  significantly  adding:  "Yes,  and  Papa  can 
whip. ' ' 

While  the  gradually  maturing  mind  corrects  such  childish  extrava- 
ganzas, the  feeling  of  reverence  for  their  parents,  which  their  helpless 
and  dependent  infancy  has  implanted,  remains,  and  remains  to  the  end 
of  children's  lives,  if  parents  know  the  art  of  maintaining  it,  if  they  under- 
stand how  to  keep  that  golden  means  between  affection  and  reserve,  that 
attracts  children's  love  and  confidence,  and  repels  that  familiarity  that 
breeds  levity.  Such  parents  not  only  win  for  themselves  the  filial  respect 
due  them,  but  also  secure  their  children's  reverence  for  whatever  they 
themselves  revere.  Such  parents  have  no  difficulty  of  infusing  into  their 
children  sentiments  of  reverence  also  for  their  elders  and  superiors  and 
benefactors,  for  their  God,  and  for  him  who  ministers  in  his  stead.  The 
filial  reverence  that  roots  itself  in  parents'  hearts  grows  in  breadth  and 
height  till  its  branches  spread  overall  deseiving  men  and  objects,  and  its 
crown  reaches  to  the  topmost  throne  of  God.  Easy  bows  that  child's  head 
in  worship  that  sees  its  parent  worship.  Easy  believes  that  child  the 
highest  and  best  that  sees  its  mother,  whom  it  thinks  the  highest  and 
best,  humble  herself  before  one  yet  higher  and  better.  The  truth  of  this 
is  beautifully  confirmed  by  an  authority  no  less  eminent  than  Thomas 
Carlyle. 

'  My  mother,"  wrote  he,  "  with  a  true  woman's  heart  and  fine  though  uncultivated 

sense,  was  in  the  strictest  acceptation  religious The  highest  whom  I  know 

on  earth  I  here  saw  bowed  down,  with  awe  unspeakable,  before  a  Higher  in  Heaven  : 
such  things,  especially  in  infancy,  reach  inwards  to  the  very  core  of  your  being  ;  mys- 
teriously does  a  Holy  of  Holies  build  itself  into  visibility  in  the  mysterious  deeps,  and 
Reverence,  the  divinest  in  man,  springs  forth  undying  from  its  mean  envelopment  of 
fear."* 

Among  the  ancients,  judging  from  the  literatures  they  have  left  us, 
parents  seem  to  have  understood  the  art  of  reverence-training  better  than 
we  do  to-day.  Their  authority  over  their  children  con- 
nc7eentse  tinned  absolute  throughout  their  life.  Even  the  right  of 
capital  punishment  was  theirs,  and  was  visited  upon  the 
son  or  daughter  guilty  of  striking  or  cursing  a  parent.  Men  of  power 
and  authority,  men  fearless  and  cruel,  men  that  routed  armies  and  crushed 
giants  under  their  heel,  humbled  themselves  in  the  dust  in  the  presence 
of  their  patriarchal  sires,  cowered  under  their  curse,  and  prized  their 
blessings  higher  than  the  highest  on  earth.  Disrespect  of  parents,  neglect 
of  them  in  their  old  age,  was  classed  among  them  with  the  most  heinous 
sins,  and  the  beautiful  precepts  they  have  left  us  on  the  treatment  due  to 
parents  by  their  children,  and  the  stories  that  have  come  down  to  us  illus- 
trative of  the  reverence  shown  to  parents,  of  the  sacrifices  made  in  their 
behalf  by  their  children,  of  the  patience  with  which  they  endured  even 
their  foibles  and  failings,  of  the  reverence  shown  their  memory  even  after 
death,  would  indicate  both  the  horror  with  which  filial  irreverence  must 
have  been  regarded,  and  the  infrequency  of  the  offense. 
*  Carlyle  :  "Sartor  Resartus,"  Bk.  II,  chap.  ii. 


To  a  very  large  extent,  this  is  still  true  in  the  Orient,  and  in  the  con- 
servative parts  of  Europe.  There  children  have  not  yet  unlearned  the 
reverence  due  to  those  that  reared  them  and  toiled  and 
suffered  for  them.  There  it  is  still  regarded  a  disrespect,  abroad^^^^ 
to  sit  in  a  parent's  seat,  to  contradict  them,  to  argue  with 
or  to  differ  from  them,  even  to  complain  of  an  injustice.  Neither  have 
parents  unlearned  there  the  art  of  winning  for  themselves  and  of  main- 
taining such  reverence.  With  all  the  love  they  have  for  their  children, 
they  will  not  yield  an  inch  of  their  parental  prerogative.  Not  for  a 
moment  will  they  permit  them  to  outgrow  the  habit  of  looking  up  to 
them,  even  though  their  children  have  grown  tall,  and  themselves  have 
become  small.  Though  their  childrens'  hearts  form  new  alliances,  they 
will  never  allow  a  son's  wife  or  a  daughter's  husband  to' crowd  a  parent 
out,  nor  the  happiness  over  their  own  parenthood  to  make  them  less 
anxious  for  a  parent's  kiss  or  blessing  than  in  the  days  gone  by. 

Among  us,   however,  our  new  state  of  things  has  introduced  new 
features  into  this  old  and  sacred  relationship  between  parents  and  their 
children.     Reverence  for  parents  is  of  all  virtues  the  last 
we  would  think  of  ascribing  to  Young  America.     Barring    fnce 'amoiig''^ 
noble  exceptions,  the  self-assertiveness  of  Young  America 
displays  itself  from  his  earliest  childhood.     While  still  in  the  cradle  he  is 
the  tyrant ;  while  yet  in  the  nursery  he  rules  the  household.     His  will  is 
absolute.     His  every  whim  is  indulged.     He  looks  upon  his  parents  as 
created  for  the  sole  purpose  of  gratifying  his  wants.     Ere   yet  out  of  his 
kilts  he  contracts  father  into  "dad  "  or  "  pap,"  and  mother  into  "  mam," 
answers  back,  contradicts,  mimics,  and  has  not  infrequently  the  satisfac- 
tion of  hearing  his  impudence  and  irreverence  applauded  and  told  to 
others  as  youthful   precocity,    as   prophetic   signs   of  future   greatness. 
Grown  to  riper  years,  his  "  dad  "  and  "  mam  "  change  to  "  Boss,"  "  Old 
Man,"  "Old  Woman,"  "The  Guv'ner." 

The  son,  if  self-supporting,  assumes  under  the  parental  roof  the  air 
of  a  boarder,  often  even  when  contributing  nothing  towards  his  support. 
He  speaks  of  his  home  as  the  "hash  house,"  and  grumbles,  and  quarrels 
and  finds  fault  with  the  manager  of  the  household,  his  own  mother,  as  if 
she  were  a  hired  servant.  'Ere  yet  out  of  his  teens,  he  carries  the  latch- 
key, and  is  free  to  go  and  do  where  and  wrhat  he  pleases,  and  return  at 
all  hours  of  the  night,  without  the  need  of  giving  an  account  of  himself 
to  the  "  old  folks." 

The  daughter  frequently  leads  the  life  of  a  princess.  While  her 
mother  slaves  around  the  house,  she  is  lost  in  the  mazes  of  a  novel, 
or  drums  on  the  piano,  or  gads  in  the  neighborhood,  or  pleasantly 
whiles  her  time  away  at  the  matinee  or  on  the  promenade.  To  preserve 
the  softness  and  whiteness  of  her  hand,  and  the  fairness  of  her  complex- 
ion, and  the  proportions  of  her  figure,  she  shuns  work,  thinks  honorable 
self-support  degrading,  has  her  mother  dance  attendance  ugon  her,  while 
her  poor  father  is  obliged  to  toil  himself  to  death  to  support  her  idleness 
.and  to  gratify  her  wants. 


Much  as  the  children  are  at  fault  for  this  state  of  affairs,  that  prevails 
in  not  a  few  of  our  households,  the  parents  themselves  are  frequently  not 

free  from  blame.  They  do  not  command  the  reverence 
fe^lt"of  Barents.  that  is  tbeir  due>  because  they  know  not  how  to  win  it,  or 

how  to  keep  it.  Their  relationship  with  their  children  is 
often  of  that  familiar  kind  that  breeds  disrespect  When  fathers  and  sons 
gamble  at  the  same  table,  make  bets,  engage  in  heated  discussions  on 
religious  and  political  differences  ;  when  mothers  vie  with  their  daugh- 
ters in  vanities  and  gaieties,  in  personal  display  and  extravagances, 
when  parents  must  bribe  their  children  into  obedience,  or  are  too  weak 
to  deny,  or  afraid  to  prohibit,  their  children  anything,  or  must  patiently 
submit  to  being  corrected  by  their  children  on  points  of  grammar  or  eti- 
quette, in  the  presence  of  strangers,  in  such  homes  one  must  not  expect 
to  find  children  displaying  feelings  of  reverence  for  their  parents,  nor 
expect  to  see  them  treat  with  reverence  and  consideration  and  apprecia- 
tion their  elders  and  superiors  elsewhere,  when  the  reverential  feeling  was 
never  planted,  or,  if  planted,  was  never  permitted  to  develop  within  the 
home. 

Another  cause  for  our  lack  of  reverence  may  be  traced  to  its  banish- 
ment from  our  Public  Schools.     The.  sacred  awe  that  once  encircled  the 

school  has  vanished.  Our  people  do  not  think  with  the 
treatment"1!'  ancient  Talmudist  that  the  teacher  deserves  to  be  honored 

public-school          more  than  the  parent  and  as  much  as  God,*  nor  do  they 

look  up  with  amazement  to  the  schoolmaster,  as  did  the 
villagers  of  Goldsmith's  poem,  wondering  how  "one  small  head  could 
carry  all  he  knew."  There  are  scarcely  any  schoolmasters  any  more. 
We  have  schoolmisses  now.  Poor  pay  and  poorer  treatment,  self-respect 
and  the  need  of  providing  for  their  families  :  have  driven  the  men  out  of 
the  professions,  and  they  keep  the  lady  teachers  only  so  long  at  their 
difficult  and  thankless  posts,  till  some  worthy  man  comes  along  to  redeem 
them  out  of  their  house  of  bondage.  For  soldiers  who  have  been  disa- 
bled in  the  war  millions  of  dollars  are  expended  annually  in  pensions, 
and  palatial  homes  are  provided  for  them,  where  they  may  end  their  days 
in  peace  and  comfort.  To  our  teachers,  however,  who  daily  fight  harder 
battles  and  receive  more  painful  wounds  than  many  a  soldier  did  on  battle- 
field, who  daily  battle  with  rebellious  children  and  conspiring  parents, 
battle  against  ignorance,  battle  for  the  suppression  of  vice  and  crime,  for 
the  promotion  of  prosperity  and  peace  and  good  will  among  men,  and 
who  sacrifice  in  that  service  their  best  years,  their  health,  to  this  blessed 
standing  army  we  pay  salaries  barely  enongh  to  keep  them  respectably 
while  on  duty,  and,  when  enfeebled  or  disabled  by  long  and  faithful  service, 
•we  dismiss  them — to  find  for  themselves  the  bread  of  charity. 

The  treatment  college  professors  receive  at  our  hands  is  but  little 
better.     Few  professions  require  such  continued  stud}'  and  such  faithful 


*  Aboth  19  a  ;  Baba  Metziah,  33  a. 


application,  few  are  so  trying  on  the  mind  and  so  wearing 
on  the  system,  and  few,  if  any,  are  so  poorly  paid  as  that  c  '°  p 
of  the  college-professor.  By  virtue  of  their  position  they 
are  expected  to  live  respectably,  and  to  keep  themselves  and  families 
respectably,  and  to  do  this  they  are  paid  salaries  that  make  it  a  constant 
struggle  for  them  to  make  ends  meet.  It  was  a  generous  gift,  that  which 
Professor  Loornis,  who  was  exceptionally  blessed  with  wealth,  bequeathed 
the  other  day  to  Yale  University.  But  his  generosity  showed  itself  most 
in  the  special  condition  he  made  as  to  the  disposition  of  his  fund  of  a 
quarter  of  a  million  dollars.  It  is  to  be  devoted  to  the  study  of  astronomy , 
but  not  by  adding  new  buildings  or  instruments,  but  by  paying  better 
salaries  to  its  professors,  and  by  defraying  the  costs  of  their  researches  and 
publications.  Even  so  old  and  so  popular  a  University  as  Yale  requires 
charity-bequests  to  enable  it  to  pay  respectable  salaries  to  the  men  that 
give  it  its  illustrious  fame.  Such  is  the  honor  America  shows  to  its  men 
of  learning.  We  have  plenty  work  for  our  professors,  but  little  money, 
and  less  recognition,  and  yet  less  honor.  Our  honors  we  need  for  our  rich 
Nabobs.  Our  big  salaries  go  to  professional  base-ball  players  with  their 
$5,000  salary  for  six  months  sport.  Our  attention  and  applause  goes  to- 
popular  theatrical  stars  with  their  $50,000  a  year  income. 

Abroad,  if  the  professors'  salaries  are  not  any  better  than  here,  they 
are,  in  a  measure,  compensated  by  the  high  regard  in  which  they  are  held 

in  their  communities.     Kings  and  princes  entertain  them 

,   Treatment  of 
at  their  palaces.     The  aristocracy  of  wealth   feels  itself  college-Profes- 

honored  with  the  company  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  brain.  sors  abroad- 
Our  aristocracy  seems  rather  anxious  to  keep  the  learned  fraternity  at  a 
considerable  distance  from  them.  Perhaps  for  good  reasons.  Learned 
men  have  a  sharp  eye  and  a  keen  scent  for  detecting  parvenue  upstarts- 
and  pretentious  stupidity.  How  different  the  treatment  is  that  is  accorded 
to  learned  men  abroad,  even  in  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  Heathen  lands,, 
we  may  learn  from  the  bit  of  news  that  has  recently  reached  us  from 
Prof.  C.  Meriwether,  late  of  Johns  Hopkins  University,  Baltimore,  now 
Professor  of  English  and  History  in  Tokio  University,  Japan.  "Upon 
arriving,"  so  reads  the  news,  "  he  was  received  with  great  ceremony  and 
every  mark  of  honor.  A  special  palace  was  given  him  as  his  residence, 
with  more  than  fifty  servants.  A  stable,  containing  some  of  the  finest 
horses  in  the  kingdom,  was  placed  at  his  disposal,  and  in  every  way  he 
was  treated  with  royal  splendor."  At  home  the  American  Professor's  lot 
was  most  likely  that  hard-worked  and  ill-paid  kind  of  the  rest  of  his  fra- 
ternity, glad  perhaps  to  be  able  to  live  in  a  respectable  flat,  and  to  keep 
one  servant,  and  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  street-car  ride. 

Another  cause  for  our  want  of  reverence  ma}*  be  found  in  our  politi- 
cal system.     We  are  in  possession  of  Freedom  of  Press  and  Speech,  and 

we  are  making  liberal  use  of  them.     For  political  ends, 

'     Observed  in 
we  deem  it  our  right,  nay  our  duty,  to  foist  our  men  and    treatment  of 

platforms  upon  the  public,  at  the  expense  of  the  opposi-    pu 

tion.     To  attain  our  ends,  no  character  is  too  sacred,  no  prior  service  too- 


honorable,  no  private  life  too  inviolable,  no  mud  too  foul,  no  methods 
too  contemptible.  The  purest  motives  we  impugn,  the  best  purposes  we 
malign,  the  most  honorably-won  laurels  we  drag  in  the  gutters,  the  most- 
hard-earned  reputations  we  bury  under  heaps  of  detraction  and  calumny. 
Not  yet  content,  we  press  yet  art  (God  save  the  mark  !)  into  our  service. 
We  send  glaring  cartoons  broadcast,  carricaturing,  belittling,  befouling, 
men  and  objects  others  have  been  in  the  habit  of  looking  up  to  with  awe 
and  reverence. 

What  the, consequences  are  we  know  only  to  our  sorrow.  It  seldom 
effects  bad  men,  for  the  frequent  excessive  abuses  and  exaggerated  charges- 
directed  against  them,  enable  them  to  pose  as  martyrs  ;  while  good  men, 
men  who  might  render  their  country  and  people  noble  and  able  service, 
are  frightened  away,  for  fear  of  seeing  their  name  and  fame  lampooned 
and  carricatured,  and  the  honor  of  their  families  besmirched.  A  feeling 
of  distrust,  suspicion,  is  engendered  in  the  minds  of  the  whole  people. 
No  one  knows  whom  to  trust,  whom  to  believe  honest.  Politics  have 
come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  thing  unholy,  and  contact  with  politicians  is 
believed  by  many  to  be  getting  into  bad  company.  Start  in  politics,  and 
one  of  two  goals — so  many  believe — lies  before  you,  either  the  State- 
House  or  the  State-Prison,  either  the  White-House  or  the  Black-Cell,  and 
the  same  means  may  lead  to  the  one  or  the  other. 

Our  youth,  in  the  meantime,  growing  up  in  the  midst  of  exciting 
campaigns  and  hot  political  discussions,  hearing  and  seeing  men  in  high 
office,  or  aspirants  for  the  same,  vilified  and  scandalized,  join  one  side  01 
the  other,  and,  though  wholly  influenced  by  their  surroundings,  being^ 
too  young  and  too  inexperienced  for  independent  judgment,  often  excel 
their  elders  in  their  contempt  and  scorn  and  ridicule  with  which  they  talk 
of  men  and  institutions  they  ought  to  revere.  Not  long  ago  I  heard  a 
little  knee-high  to  one  of  our  greatest  living  statesmen  declare,  that  that 
statesman,  that  had  grown  gray  in  honorable  service  to  his  country,  was 
not  fit  to  be  his  boot-black.  And  this  piece  of  impudence  I  saw  rewarded 
with  loud  applause  and  laughter  by  his  parents  and  their  friends.  Little 
did  those  parents  realize  that  their  applause  planted  perhaps  the  seed  of 
irreverence  in  their  child's  mind,  that  will  grow  and  spread,  till  some  day 
he  will  make  of  his  own  parents  a  boot-jack.  A  good  parental  booting 
instead  of  laughter  would  have  been  a  better  reward  for  the  impudence 
of  their  little  jack.  Is  it  to  be  expected  that,  with  a  taste  for  detraction 
early  developed,  with  habits  of  sneering  and  ridiculing  early  formed,  and 
their  abuse  of  their  elders  and  superiors  early  applauded,  they  will  enter 
the  home,  the  school,  the  church,  with  feelings  of  respect,  and  accord  to 
parents  and  teachers,  to  preachers  and  to  God  more  reverential  treat- 
ment? 

It  is  not  to  be  expected,  and  while  the  proverb  that  "it  is  the  unex- 
pected that  always  happens  "  holds  good  in  many  of  our  homes,  and 
schools,  in  large  numbers  of  others  we  do  not  find  it,  very  often  not  even 
in  the  church,  where  we  reasonably  might  have  expected  to  find  it.  As  a 
people  we  Americans  are  said  to  be  great  in  everything,  great  in  natural 


possessions,  great  in  wealth,  great  in  enterprise,  great  in  brag.  Every- 
thing that  others  possess  we  are  said  to  possess  in  the  superlative  degree; 
even  godlessness. 

We  are  said  to  be  the  greatest  scoffers  on  earth.     While  we  may  be 
unwilling  to  acknowledge  it  abroad,  here,  at  home,  and  among  ourselves, 

we  might  as  well  be  honest  enough  and  admit  that  there 

.          .  .  Our  irreverence 

is  much  truth  in  this  charge.     We  have  never  given  the    shown  in  our 

world  a  God,  or  a  Religion,  or  Sacred  Institutions,  and  so  scoffin&- 
-we  have  no  scruples  in  needlessly  tearing  down  the  good,  that  which  has 
not  outlived  its  time  and  usefulness,  that  which  others  have  laboriously 
built  up  during  thousands  of  years,  and  in  poking  fun  at  what  others 
revere.  We  talk  enthusiastically  of  science,  because  we  have  contributed 
an  honorable  share  towards  it.  Science  we  believe  to  be  real,  practical, 
profitable  ;  Religion  we  hold  as  a  mixture  of  ignorance  and  superstition, 
of  fraud  and  fanaticism,  impractical  and  unprofitable,  and,  as  scoffing  is 
much  easier  than  investigating  and  thinking,  we  find  great  delight  in 
parodying  and  burlesquing  and  travesting  what  others  hold  sacred. 

Profanity  is  another  greatness,  which  we  are  said  to  possess  in  a 
superlative  degree.     Whether  this  be  true  or  not,  a  fact  it  is,  we  have 

profanity  enough  in  our  land  to  supply  the  whole  earth, 

,.  F    .  .  '     In  our  profanity, 

with  plenty  to  spare  for  a  few  of  our  neighboring  planets. 

Nowhere  in  the  world,  travellers  assure  us,  is  the  ear  offended  by  such 
"blasphemous  and  vulgar  profanities  as  here.  Sir  Edwin  Arnold  informs 
us  that  the  term  ' '  fellow ' '  is  the  worst  in  the  Japanese  vocabulary  of 
swear-words.  I  have  recently  read  of  a  gentleman,  who  was  a  passenger 
on  a  vessel  sailing  from  India,  where  he  had  lived  for  a  number  of  years, 
who,  greatly  offended  by  the  blasphemous  profanity  of  an  American  sailor, 
turned  to  him,  and,  pointing  to  his  boy,  said  :  "This  boy  was  born  and 
brought  up  in  a  heathen  country  and  a  land  of  idolatry  ;  but,  in  all  his 
life,  he  never  heard  a  man  blaspheme  his  Maker  till  now. ' '  I  have  trav- 
elled through  seven  of  the  largest  and  most  populous  countries  of  Europe, 
and  in  not  one  of  them  have  I  heard  profanities  so  vile,  so  vulgar,  and  so 
blasphemous  as  here.  Nothing  else  satisfies  us  as  profanity  unless  it  is 
coupled  with  the  name  of  God  or  that  of  His  Satanic  Majesty,  and  noth- 
ing less  contents  us  than  sending  the  man  or  object  of  our  displeasure 
to  the  eternal  roasting-plap e.  Not  a  few  among  us  think  themselves  all 
the  manlier  for  the  greater  vulgarity  and  blasphemy  of  their  oaths.  From 
lips  that  never  offer  prayer,  or  utter  blessing,  the  name  of  God  falls  most 
frequently  and  most  revoltingly  in  curse. 

And  in  yet  another  irreverence  we  are  said  to  excel,  and  the  saddest 
of  them  all,  and  that  is  the  levity  with  which  we  treat  the  judicial  oath. 

Comparing  the  solemn  manner  in  which  the  judicial  oath 

,..,,.  -  ,,       r  .    .        , ,     .      In  our  mockery 

is  administered  in  many  of  the  foreign  countries,  their   of  the  judicial 

fasting  before  repairing  to  their  respective  places  of  wor-    oath- 
ship  to  render  the  oath  before  their  Holy  of  Holies,  comparing  this  mode 
with  our  manner  of  having  officers  of  the  court,  who  quite  frequently  are 
notorious  infidels  and  scoffers,  asking  the  men  to  be  sworn  to  raise  their 


hands  while  they  mechanically  mumble  some  words,  which  they  call  the 
oath,  of  which  frequently  the  only  intelligible  part  is  the  conclusion  : 
"So  help  me  God!  "  "  Fifty  cents,  please!  "  one  is  certainly  under  the 
painful  necessity  of  admitting  that  the  charge  of  turning  the  judicial 
oath  into  a  farce  and  a  burlesque,  that  is  laid  at  our  doors,  is  not  un- 
founded. And  we  may  as  well  also  admit,  that  in  stripping  the  oath  of 
its  reverence,  we  not  only  have  opened  wide  the  door  to  perjury,  but  also 
have  knocked  from  under  Law  itself  its  strongest  pillar,  and  from  under 
justice  and  truth  one  of  their  mightiest  protectors. 

Can  we  wonder  then,  with  such  irreverence  abounding  among  us,  with 
such  levity  and  mockery  of  sacred  things  and  objects,  with  such  profanities 

and  blasphemies  of  God,  that  the  reverence  shown  our  min- 
d       istrv  snould  differ  s°  materially  from  that  in  Goldsmith's 

poem,  or  in  foreign  lands?  "Where  God  is  blasphemed, 
the  preacher  or  teacher  is  unhonored,"  wrote  the  Rabbis  of  old*,  and 
modern  experience  confirms  their  observation.  "God  will  not  let  him 
go  unpunished  who  takes  His  name  in  vain," f  declares  the  Third  Com- 
mandment, and  daily  observations  assure  us,  that  this  is  not  an  empty 
threat.  We  see  the  punishment  in  the  loss  of  that  sanctity,  that  once 
gave  the  sweetest  charm  to  the  home.  We  see  it  in  the  banishment  of  the 
best  teaching-force  from  our  schools,  and  of  the  best  governing-power 
from  our  politics,  and  of  the  best  character-builders  from  our  pulpits. 
And  this  punishment  will  continue,  until  with  Goethe  we  shall  realize 
that  Reverence  is  the  one  virtue,  on  which  all  our  virtues  depend,  the  one 
attribute  without  which  all  others  avail  us  nothing,  the  one  virtue  "  that 
makes  man  in  every  point  a  man."t  This  punishment  will  continue, 
until  we  shall  introduce  Goeth's  principles  of  reverence-building  into  our 
systems  of  education,  till  we  shall  teach  our  younger  children  to  look  up 
with  respect  and  awe  to  their  superiors  ;  and  our  youth  to  look  down  on 
earth,  and  gratefully  and  modestly  consider  whence  all  their  blessings 
flow;  and  those  in  the  prime  of  life  to  look  about  and  treat  with  reverence 
all  to  whom  reverence  belongs. 


•Talmud,  Berachoth  19,  6.       fExod.  xx.  7. 
J"Wilhelm  Meister's  Wanderjahre,"  Bk,  II.  Chap.  i. 


Through  Labor  to  Rest. 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  March  ijth,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx,  9.  10)  rat?  '.jrutyn  an -uyr\ 

(Isaiah  Iviii,  13,  14)  HIIT  ^  JJ>T\n  TX Jj 

(Ecci.  iii.  3)  nun1?  njn  yna1?  nj; 


"Ah,  why 
Should  life  all  labor  be?  " 

Tennyson. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  and  one  of  the  most  startling,  of  the  many 
interesting  and  startling,  chapters  in  Professor  L,ombroso's  work  :  "  The 

Man  of  Genius"  recently  published  in  "The  Contempo- 

„         Mental  supenor- 
rary  Science  Series,     is  the  one  that  treats  on     The  Intlu-   ity  of  European 

ence  of  Race  and  Heredity  on  Genius  and  Insanity."  The  Jew- 
distinguished  writer  takes  occasion  in  that  chapter  to  point  out,  by  means 
of  carefully  selected  statistic^,  the  surprising  predominance  of  genius 
among  the  Jews  of  Western  Europe,  and  among  Jews  in  general.  In  a 
tabulated  form,  he  sums  up  the  comparative  number  of  Europeans 
(Aryans)  and  Jews  (Semites)  in  100,000  celebrities,  and  astonishes  us  in 
giving  to  the  Jews,  though  forming  but  a  very  small  percentage  of  the 
European  population,  in  many  branches  almost  an  equal  number  of  dis- 
tinguished men,  and  in  quite  a  few  superior  numbers.  To  reproduce  his 
own  table,  he  cites  of  celebrated 


Europeans. 

Jews. 

Europeans. 

Jews. 

Actors      .... 

21 

34 

Miscellaneous    . 

4 

3 

Agriculture   .     .     . 

2 

— 

Metaphysics     .     . 

2 

18 

Antiquaries     .     . 

23 

26 

Musicians  .     .     . 

ii 

7' 

Architects      .     .     . 

6 

6 

Natural  Science   . 

22 

25 

Artists     .... 

40 

34 

Naval      .... 

12 

— 

Authors     .... 

3i6 

223 

Philologists      .     . 

'3 

123 

1O5 

1'oets  

36 

Engineers     .     .     . 

'3 

9 

Political  Economy 

2O 

26 

Engravers  .    .    . 

3 

— 

Science  .... 

51 

52 

Lawyers    .... 

44 

40 

Sculptors      .     ,     . 

IO 

12 

Medicals      .     .     . 

31 

49 

Sovereigns      .     . 

21 

— 

Merchants     .     .     . 

12 

43 

Statesmen     .     .     . 

125 

83 

Military  .... 

56 

6       • 

Travellers  .     .     . 

25 

12 

2 
\ 

This  table  furnishes  much  food  for  reflection.  It  tells  in  the  briefest 
language  the  longest  story  of  the  influence  of  heredity,  of  the  indestruc- 
tibility of  the  cultivated  mind,  of  the  mind-sharpening  power  of  persecu- 
tion, of  the  truth  of  Darwin's  Law  of  the  Struggle  for  Existence,  and  of 
'  the  Survival  of  the  Fittest.  It  tells  how  much  of  the  sunny  orient  still 
lives  and  shines  in  its  occidental  exile,  still  displays  itself  in  the  Jew's 
speculative  and  meditative  proneness,  in  his  poetic  and  imaginative  and 
oratorical  flights,  in  his  musical  and  histrionic  instincts,  commercial  habits, 
diplomatic  skill.  It  tells  of  the  deathlessness  of  certain  peculiar  race- 
instincts,  if  not  of  the  deathlessness  of  that  peculiar  people  that  ranks  as 
the  most  distinguished  of  the  Semitic  race. 

This  latter  belief  finds  strong  confirmation  in  other  tables  prepared 
by  other  erudite  scientists,  which  show  greater  immunity  of  Jews  from 

epidemics  and  certain  fatal  diseases,  greater  longevity> 
Physical  supen- 

orityofuuropean    and  a  smaller  death  rate  of  children,  than  among  Non- 
Jews.     To  quote  so  eminent  an  authority  as  Dr.  Benjamin 
Ward  Richardson,  of  England,  whose  researches  are  confirmed  and  supple- 
mented by  those  of  M.  M.  Legoyt,  Hoffmann  Neufville  and  Mayer  : 

"  Children  from  one  to  five  years  of  age  die  in  the  proportion  of  loper  cent,  amongst 
the  Jewish,  and  14  per  cent,  amongst  the  Christian  population.  .  .  .  The  average 
duration  of  the  life  of  the  Jew  being  48  years  and  9  months,  and  of  the  Christian  36  years 
and  1 1  months.  In  the  total  of  all  ages,  half  of  the  Jews  born  reach  the  age  of  53  years 
and  one  month,  whilst  half  the  Christians  born  attain  the  age  of  36  years  only.  A 
quarter  of  the  Jewish  population  is  found  living  beyond  71  years,  but  a  quarter  of  the 
Christian  population  is  found  Hying  beyond  59  years  and  10  months  only.  The  Civil 
States  extracts  of  Prussia  give  to  the  Jews,  a  mortality  of  1.61  per  cent ;  .to  the  whole 
kingdom  2.62  per  cent.  To  the  Jews  they  give  an  annual  increase  of  1.73  per  cent ;  to 
the  Christians  1.36  per  cent.  The  effectives  of  the  Jews  require  a  period  of  41^  years  to 
double  themselves ;  those  of  the  other  races  51  years.  .  .  .  The  Jews  escape  the 
great  epidemics  more  readily  than  the  other  races  with  whom  they  live.  Thus  the 
mortality  from  Cholera  amongst  them  is  so  small  that  the  very  fact  of  its  occurrence  has 
"been  disputed."*  . 

If  a  more  scrupulous  regard  for  wholesome  diet  and  for  temperance, 
if  greater  parental  conscientiousness  and  happier  and  more  faithful  dom- 
estic life,  if  quieter  modes  of  life,  if  all  these  causes  be  insufficient  to 
account  for  this  difference  between  Jew  and  Non-Jew,  one  can  hardly 
help  believing  that  a  special  Providence  holds  guard  over  Israel,  and 
preserves!  it  for  special  ends. 

•  This  jlatter  sweet  hope,  however,  is  rudely  dissipated,  by  yet  another 
surprise  in  the  same  chapter  of  Lombroso's  book,  which  is  far  from  being 

as  pleasant  as  the  other.     In  very  plain  language  we  are 
Excessive  mental 

suffering  of  there  informed,  that  with  all  the  prodigality  of  Jewish 

European  jew.  intellect  and  ability,  the  Jewish  mind  is  suffering  from 
over-straip  and  from  other  cause's,  to  an  alarmingly  greater  degree  than 
that  of  arjy  other  people  In  the  cold  and  pitiless  language  of  science 
we  are  thbre  informed,  that  the  Jewish  people  furnish  in  some  European 
countries;  four  and  even  six  times  as  many  afflicted  with  mental  disease 
as  the  refet  of  the  population.  He  quotes  Servi  and  Vergaf  as  giving 

•Richardson,  Diseases  of  Modern  Life,  Chap.  II. 

fGli  Israelite  di  Europa,  1872;  Archivio,  di  Statistics,  Rome,  1880. 


more  than  four  times  as  many  insane  among  the  Italian  Jews  as  among 
the  Italian  Christians  ;  and  Mayr,  who,  in  1871,  gave  the  proportion,  of 
insane  in  Germany  as  follows  : — 

Per  10,000  Christians.  Per  10,000  Jews.  \    .   ; 

Prussia        ....        8.7        ....         14.1 

Bavaria 9.8    .        .        .        ,        .    25.2 

All  Germany     ...       8.6       ....        16.1 

To  make  his  case  surer  yet,  he  quotes  from  an  article  :  "  The  Comparative 
Distribution  of  Jewish  Ability"%  by  Joseph  Jacobs,  an  able  Jewish  writer  of 
England,  wherein  he  points  out  that  "  while  Englishmen  have  3,050  per 
million  afflicted  with  mental  disease,  Scotchmen  have  3,400,  and  Jews 
3,900." 

These  are  startling  statements,  and,  as  they  are  advanced  by  cautious 
and  scholarly  men,  we  may  consider  them  reliable.  Still,  I  have  no 
doubt,  that  some  of  you  are  at  this  moment  as  sceptic  as  to  the  truthful- 
ness of  these  facts  and  figures,  as  I  was  when  first  confronted  by  them. 
To  hear  it  stated  on  one  side  by  eminent  scholars,  that  the  Jews,  though 
but  one-sixtieth  part  of  the  European  population,  have  contributed 
many  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  celebrities  of  Europe,  far  more,  in 
proportion  to  the  smallness  of  their  number,  than  their  Non-Jewish  neigh- 
bors, that  they  enjoy  greater  longevity,  and  better  immunity  from  epi- 
demics and  certain  virulent  diseases,  that  they  are  not  addicted  to  mind- 
consuming  passions,  nor  to  the  vice  of  alcoholism,  nor  to  the  use  of  any  of 
the  other  health-sapping  narcotics,  and  then  to  see  it  proved  on  the  other 
side,  that  in  proportion  to  their  number  the  Jews  contribute  from  twice 
to  four  times  as  many  mental  sufferers  as  the  Non-Jews,  is,  I  know  from 
personal  experience,  not  a  little  perplexing. 

.Much  I  pondered  on  the  probable  cause  of  this.  I  thought  of  the 
frequent  marriages  among  our  people  within  too  close  proximity  of  blood- 
relationship,  of  the  impoverishment  of  blood  and  vitality  through  our 
scrupulously  guarded  prohibition  of  intermarriage  with  other  races  and 
people  ;  I  thought  of  the  cruel  persecutions,  and  of  the  insulting  and 
degrading  indignities,  that  were,  and  are,  heaped  upon  our  people,  that 
prey  on  the  minds  of  the  more  tender  and  more  sensitive,  till  they  drive 
them  into  madness  ;  I  thought  of  the  enervating  indoor-life  and- vocation, 
of  the  overzeal  in  study,  of  the  straining  mental  absorption  in  abstract 
theological  speculations  and  kabbalistic  mysticisms,  of  the  rigorous  reli- 
gious devotions  and  observances,  of  the  superstitious  beliefs  and  fears,  of 
the  bigotries  and  fanaticisms,  of  many  of  our  European  brethren,  and  I 
believed  I  discovered  in  all  of  these  some  of  the  causes  of  their  mental 
afflictions. 

While  trying  to  ferret  out  yet  other  causes,  I  suddenly  recalled  a 
paragraph  in  the  same  chapter  of  Professor  Lombroso's  book,  which  said 
that  the  Jews  were  not  the  only  ones  thus  afflicted,  that 
the  neurotic  tendency  dominated  the  American  as  well,    fnd  ijnde^rest^ 
The   mystery  was  solved.      Knowing  the  cause  of  the 

Jjournal  of  Anthropological  Institute  of  Great  Britain,  1886,  pp.  351-379. 


American's  nervous  troubles,  I  was  no  longer  in  the  dark  as  to  the  cause 
of  the  excessive  amount  of  mental  suffering  among  Jews.  Both  are  the 
victims  of  that  same  malady,  which  in  our  unprofessional  language,  goes 
by  the  name  of  Over-work  and  Under-rest. 

Almost  everywhere  in  Europe,  the  Jew  shares  the  American's  restless 
toil  and  moil  in  the  busy  marts  and  shops,  offices  and  studios,  his  insati- 
able greed  after  wealth  or  fame  or  power,  his  pitiful  self-immolation  on 
the  altar  of  his  inexorable  idol,  his  straining  every  nerve  and  fibre  to  its 
utmost  tension  in  this  ceaseless  feverish  excitement,  in  his  hurry  and 
rush,  wear  and  tear,  till  the  whole  system  collapses,  till  the  digestive 
system  strikes,  and  the  respiratory  organs  rebel,  and  the  heart's  faithful 
engines  break  down  under  the  high  pressure,  till  the  nerve-strings  snap, 
and  the  music  ceases,  and  the  light  of  reason  goes  out. 

Worse  still,  for  reasons  for  which  he  is  not  altogether  responsible,  the 
European  Jew  is  preponderatingly  an  indoor  brain-worker.  In  Mr.  Lotn- 
broso's  table  of  European  celebrities,  for  instance,  we  find 
pursuits"  him  exceeding  the  number  of  Non-Jews  among  the  actors, 

merchants,  philosophers,  professors,  poets,  physicians, 
musicians  ;  but  we  find  a  blank  recorded  against  him  among  the  distin- 
guished agriculturists  and  seafarers  ;  -while  his  representation  among  dis- 
tinguished travellers  is  given  as  but  one-half,  and  among  the  distinguished 
military  men  as  but  one-ninth,  the  number  of  Non-Jews.  His  represen- 
tation in  the  less  noted  mechanical  and  outdoor  pursuits,  such  as  builders, 
quarriers,  miners,  is  by  other  statisticians  given  in  still  smaller  number. 
As  said  before,  for  much  of  this  he  is  not  responsible.  For  many  centu- 
ries, the  persecuting  spirit  pf  Europe  barred  the  doors  of  such  pursuits 
against  him,  and  forced  him  into  those  indoor  brain-taxing  pursuits  in 
which  he  now  predominates.  And  though  he  is  now  free  to  pursue  any 
calling  he  pleases,  acquired  habits,  the  Laws  of  Heredity  and  Environ- 
ment, a  weaker  physical  constitution,  (through  long  exclusion  from  hard, 
outdoor  toil)  have  largely  made  him  a  creature  of  circumstances,  beyond 
which  but  comparatively  few  have  been  able  to  rise. 

Furthermore,  the  cruelties  and  restrictions  that  were  heaped  upon 
him  in  the  past,  and  which  seriously  blighted  his  general  culture  and 

,     worldly  prosperity,  existing  no  more,  and  the  ostracisms 
And  to  over-zeal. 

and  indignities  to  which  he  is  still  subjected,  as  a  Jew, 

despite  his  enjoyment  of  equal  rights,  have  kindled  within  him  a  double 
yearning,  that  of  rooting  out  every  lingering  vestige  of  his  degraded 
Ghetto-life,  and  that  of  enforcing  recognition  and  respect,  through  sup- 
erior fortune  or  through  superior  brain.  Being  by  racial  instincts  natur- 
ally industrious  and  thrifty  and  capable,  and  impelled  by  this  spirit  of 
ambition,  he  entered  upon  the  one  great  purpose  of  his  life  with  a  zeal 
that  was  as  remarkable  as  its  consequent  achievement.  What  has  taken 
others  whole  centuries  to  achieve,  the  Jew  has  equalled,  and  in  many 
cases  excelled,  within  but  a  generation  or  two. 

In  all  this  he  much  resembles  the  American.  The  latter,  too,  allowed 
himself  but  a  very  short  time  in  which  to  achieve  a  very  large  amount. 


Starting  with  neither  name  or  fame,  or  fortune,  and  en- 

...  .In  this  he  resera- 

joying  the  most  favorable  opportunities  for  their  attain-    ties  the  Ameri- 

ment,  possessing,  in  addition,  a  vast  amount  of  ambition,    cau'      , 
and  placing  before  himself  the  illustrious  example  of  European  achieve- 
ment, that  took  whole  centuries  to  build  up,  he  entered  upon  his  fame- 
and  fortune-building  with  a  zest,  that  in  rapidity  somewhat  resembled  the 
hurricanes  and  cyclones  of  his  country. 

He  attained  his  end.  In  the  short  time  he  allowed  himself,  he  has 
already  equalled  the  European  in  many  of  his  accomplishments  and 
possessions,  and  in  quite  a  number  he  has  far  outstripped  him.  But, 
unfortunately,  his  success  resembled  the  cyclone  also  in  its  destructive- 
ness.  He  is  prosperous — but  diseased.  He  is  pursuing  the  mad  race  after 
fame  and  fortune  with  the  malady  of  the  neurotic  tendency  upon  him. 
He  is  a  man  blessed  by  God,  but  cursed  by  himself,  a  curse  so  virulent, 
that  not  even  the  bountiful  blessings  of  God  can  neutralize  its  poison. 
With  worry  and  anxiety  he  takes  up  the  day's  toil.  Amidst  feverish 
excitements,  fortune-involving  speculations,  keen  competitions,  brain- 
taxing  and  health-sapping  occupations,  he  passes  the  day.  With  want  of 
appetite  he  sits  down  to  his  meals,  and  with  dyspepsia  he  rises  from  the 
table.  With  nervous  head-aches  he  retires,  and  the  night  he  passes  with 
insomnia,  or  with  feverish  dreams,  in  which  the  overstrained  mind  re- 
enacts,  in  an  incoherent  way,  the  gains  and  the  losses,  the  hopes  and  the 
disappointments,  the  worries  and  vexations  of  the  day. 

So  much  then  is  clear,  that  in  wonderful  achievements  in  an  amaz- 
ingly short  period  of  time  the  Jew  and  American  resemble  each  other,  and, 
alas,  also  in  their  fatal  consequences.  Two  of  the  most  capable  and  most 
energetic  peoples  on  the  earth,  peoples  that  could  prove  themselves  mighty 
benefactors  to  human  kind,  are  fast  digging  the  grave  for  their  own  sep- 
ulture, or,  worse  still,  are  already  far  started  on  the  road  that  leads  to 
the  Insane  Asylum. 

And  of  the  two,  the  condition  of  the  Jew  is  the  worse.  With  all  his 
advantages  over  the  American,  such  as  belonging  to  an  older  and  more 

enduring  race,  enjoying  greater  immunity  from  a  num- 

-,?  T,   •        r  rj         1  The  American- 

ber  01  diseases,  being  ireer  from  the  vice  of  drunkenness,    jew  a  yet  greater 

and  yet  other  vices,  the  curse  of  Over-work  and  Under-  meutal  sutferer- 
rest  rests  heavier  upon  him  than  upon  the  other.  The  American,  at  least, 
has  one  day  out  of  seven,  on  which  he  ceases  to  be  a  slave  of  toil  or 
Mammon,  one  day  in  the  week,  which  he  sanctifies  to  rest  and  holiness, 
ona  day  that  is  wholly  his  and  his  God's  and  his  family's,  his  weekly 
Sunday,  which  cools  his  burning  brain,  and  calms  his  excited  nerves  and 
•quivering  muscles 

"  as  a  harper  lays  his  open  palm 
Upon  his  harp,  to  deaden  its  vibrations." 

Longfellow,  '''•The  Golden  Legend." 

But  the  Jew  (I  refer  to  the  general  rule  in  both  cases)  has  not  even  that 
•one  day.     He  has  no  Sabbath.     He  has  given  it  to  the  Christian  world, 


but  has  forgotten  that  chanty  that  laegins  at  liome  ;  lie 
He  has  no  Sab-  „  *  , 

bath  on  which  to   has  kept  but  little  of  it  for  himself.      Toiling,  as  we 

have  seen,  mostly  indoors,  and  mostly  in  vocations  that 
tax  the  brain  to  its  utmost,  day  after  day,  Saturdays'  as  much  as  Mon- 
days', and  Sundays'  (if  not  in  one  way  than  in  another  no  less  taxing)  as 
much  as  Saturdays',  on  the  plea,  thatthe  seventh  day,  the  Jewish  Sabbath, 
he  cannot  observe  in  Christian  lands  on  account  of  overwhelming  Gentile 
environment  and  clientage  and  patronage,  and  on  the  first  day,  the 
Christian  Sabbath,  he  need  not,  nay,  must  not  rest,  he  neither  hallows 
with  rest  nor  sanctifies  with  worship,  the  Jewish  or  the  Christian  Sabbath. 
Is  it  a  wonder  then,  that  statisticians  should  report  from  two  to  four  times 
as  many  brain-sufferers  among  Jews  than  among  Non-Jews? 

Let  us  not  forget  that  these  statistics,  sad  as  they  are,  have  yet  that 

point  in  their- favor,  that  they  refer  to  the  Jews  of  Western  Europe,  where 

,    among  the  more  orthodox,  especially  among  the  poorer 

He  is  not  favored 

by  European  quiet  classes,  there  is  a  form  of  the  Saturday-Sabbath  observ- 
ance, where  holidays  are  more  frequent,  and  where  quieter 
environments  and  more  conservative  tendencies,  exercise  some  check  on 
the  self-destructive  course  of  the  hard-toiling  Jew.  Max  O'Reil  gave  us 
recently  the  following  interesting  illustration  of  the  quiet  and  convenient 
way  Europeans  have  in  conducting  their  business. 

I  remember  once— it  was  at  St.  Malo,  in  the  summer — I  entered  a  hatter's  shop  at 
one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  A  well-dressed,  ladylike  girl  came  out  of  the  back  parlor 
and  inquired  what  I  wanted.  "  I  want  a  straw  hat,  mademoiselle,"  I  said.  "Oh,  that's 
very  awkward  just  now!"  "  Is  it?"  "  Well,  you  see,  "she  said,  "  my  brother  is  at  dinner;" 
and  after  a  pause  of  a  few  seconds  she  added,  "  Would  you  mind  calling  again  in  an 
hour's  time  ?"  "  Not  at  all,"  I  replied  ;  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  do  so."  I  was  not  only 
amused,  but  struck  with  admiration  for  the  independence  of  that  worthy  hatter.  After 
a  few  years'  residence  in  England  a  little  scene  of  that  description  was  a  great  treat. 
An  hour  later  I  called  again.  The  young  girl  made  her  second  appearance.  "  My 
brother  waited  for  you  quite  ten  minutes,"  she  said  to  me.  "  He  has  gone  to  the  caffi 
with  a  friend  now."  "  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  I  said.  "  When  can  I  see  him  ?"  "  If  you 
step  across  to  the  caf6  I  am  sure  he  will  be  happy  to  come  back  and  attend  to  you."  I 
thanked  the  young  lady,  went  to  the  cafe  and  introduced  myself  to  the  hatter,  who  was 
enjoying  a  cup  of  coffee  and  having  a  game  of  dominoes  with  a  friend.  He  asked  me 
to  allow  him  to  finish  the  game,  which  of  course,  I  was  only  too  glad  to  do,  and  we 
returned  to  the  shop  together. 

Such  easy-going  modes  of  plying  their  callings,  that  surround  the  Euro- 
pean Jew,  cannot  but  exercise  a  curbing  influence  on  his  impetuosity  or 
ambition  or  greed.  Besides,  distinguished  physicians  are  agreed  that 
brain-  and-physical  work  is  less  exhausting  in  Europe  than  here.  To  quote 
our  own  distinguished  specialist  on  nervous  diseases,  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell, 

"  For  some  reason,  mental  work  is  more  exhausting  here  than  in  Europe;  while,  as 
a  rule,  such  Americans  as  have  worked  abroad  are  well  aware  that  in  France  and  in 
England  intellectual  labor  is  less  trying  than  it  is  with  us.  A  great  physiologist,  well 
known  among  us,  long  ago  expressed  to  me  the  same  opinion  ;  and  one  of  the  greatest 
living  naturalists,  who  is  honored  alike  on  both  continents,  is  positive  that  brain-work 
is  harder  and  more  hurtful  here  than  abroad, — an  opinion  which  is  shared  by  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes  and  other  competent  observers.  Certain  it  is  that  our  thinkers  of  the 
•classes  named  are  apt  to  break  down  with  what  the  doctor  knows  as  cerebral  exhaus- 
tion,—a  condition  in  which  the  mental  organs.become  more  or  less  completely  incapaci- 


tated  for  labor,— and  that  this  state  of  things  is  very  much  less-  common  among  the 
savans  of  Europe.  .  .  .  Physical  work  is  more  or  less  exhausting  in  different  e'.imates. 
.  .  .  I  have  carefully  questioned  a  number  of  master-mechanics  who  employ  both 
foreigners  and  native  Americans,  and  I  am  assured  that  the  British  workman  finds 
labor  more  trying  here  than  at  home."*  . 

When,  despite  quieter  ways  and  healthier  climate,  mental  sufferings 
dominate  the  European  Jew  to  an  alarming  degree,  what  may  we  not 
expect  to  find  here,  where  the  Jew  is  not  favored  by  tran- 
quil environment  and  climate,  and  where  he  shares  both    Prove    g^jgy^ 
the  push  and  ambition  and  greed  of  his  European  brother, 
and  the  American's  restless  excitement  and  breathless  haste  after  fame  or 
fortune  ?     We  are  fortunately  in  the  possessions  of  some  vital  statistics  of 
American  Jews,  made  under  the  auspices  of  the  Eleventh  Census  Bureau 
of  1890,  a  review  of  which  was  published  in  the  North  American  Review, 
of  January  1891,  by  Dr.  John  S.  Billings.     These  statistics  are  confined  to- 
the  native-born  and  to  those  who  have  been  in  this  country  for  several 
years,  and  though  they  are  far  from  being  complete  they  contain  enough 
to  more  than  confirm  the  story,  good  and  bad,  that  is  told  by  statisticians 
of  European  Jews,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  following  brief  extracts. 

"  Those  Jews  who  have  been  in  the  United  States  for  more  than  5  years  have  a 
decidedly  lower  death-rate  and  greater  longevity  than  the  people  of  the  same  class  by 
whom  they  are  surrounded.  ...  It  also  seems  probable  that  they  possess  a  partial 
immunity  from  and  a  special  liability  to  certain  forms  of  disease  ;  that  with  prolonged 
residence  in  the  United  States  their  death-rate  is  increasing.  ...  In  this  country, 
as  in  other  countries,  the  Jews  are  less  liable  than  others  to  tuberculosis,  and  especially 
to  pulmonary  consumption.  .  .  .  The  Jews  appear  to  be  more  affected  by  diseases 
of  the  nervous  system,  and  especially  by  diseases  of  the  spinal  cord,  and  by  diabetes,  by 
diseases  of  the  heart  and  great  vessels,  by  diseases  of  the  digestive  system  .... 
than  their  neighbors." 

He  quotes  figures  showing  a  decided  increase  of  these  troubles  since  1880, 
also  that  the  death-rate  is  rapidly  increasing,  while  the  birth-  and  marriage- 
rates  are  diminishing,  also  that  the  number  of  those  suffering  from  acute 
or  chronic  disease  is  not  only  increasing  but  is  already  in  excess  of  that 
found  in  the  general  population  of  the  United  States.  He  examines  their 
different  vocations,  and  finds  their  representation  unproportionately  large 
in  the  indoor  brain-taxing  pursuits,  most  prominently  in  trade,  law  and 
medicine. 

And  when  we  reflect  on  the  large  number  of  our  Jewish  merchant- 
and  professional-friends  suffering  from  nervous  prostration,  or  staggering 
under  the  weight  of  heart-troubles  and  dyspeptic  ailments; 
when  we  recall  the  large  number  of  friends,  whose  systems    Con Observation 
have  suddenly  collapsed,  who,  without  a  word  of  warning, 
have  been  suddenly  snatched  away  from  us  in  the  prime  of  their  lives ; 
when  we  see  the  ranks  of  the  middle-aged  thinning,  and  young  men 
aging,  long  before  their  time,  and  when  we  reflect  on  the  sad  fact,  that 
the  sight  of  a  healthy- looking  Jewish  merchant  or  profession alist  is  fast 
becoming  a  rarity,  that  over-work  has  bleached  their  cheeks,  and  worry 
has  deadened  the  lustre  of  their  eye,  and  long-continued  application  has 

*S.  Weir  Mitchell,  "Wear  and  Tear"  pp.  5&-6i- 


8 

curved  the  spine,  and  over-zeal  or  over-speculation  has  made  the  mind 
irritable,  and  rich  food  together  with  want  of  sufficient  rest  and  whole- 
some out-door  recreation  have  played  havoc  with  their  digestive  systems, 
when  on  this  we  ponder,  we  have  the  strongest  confirmation  of  the  facts 
gathered  by  the  U.  S.  Eleventh  Census  Bureau,  concerning  the  vital  sta- 
tistics of  the  American  Jew. 

Why  this  is  so  is  not  hard  to  guess.     A  double  curse  rests  upon  him. 
He  is  both  an  American  and  a  Jew.     As  an  American  he  works  harder 

than  any  other  man.  As  an  American  Jew  he  works 
STsabbatherveS  harder  and  longer  than  any  other  man  on  the  face  of  the 

earth.  His  Sabbath,  with  the  possible  exception  of  such 
as  assemble  here  for  worship  and  instruction  on  Sundays,  is  only  a  sem- 
blance of  one.  On  Saturday,  his  professed  "Day  of  Rest,"  he  slaves. 
Sunday  forenoons  he  generally  spends  in  his  shop  or  office,  to  accommodate 
a  customer  through  the  back-door,  or  to  straighten  out  things  after  the 
Saturday  rush,  or  to  post  up  the  books  that  have  gotten  behind,  or  to 
attend  to  mail-matters,  or  to  get  the  material  out  for  Monday's  work, 
that  no  time  may  be  lost.  Sunday  afternoons  large  numbers  of  them 
generally  spend  at  the  club,  at  the  card-table,  where  hundreds  of  dollars 
are  often  lost  and  won,  where  the  excitement  of  the  game,  together  with 
the  confinement  in  close  and  hot  and  smoky  rooms,  are  even  more  taxing 
on  the  brain  and  more  wearing  on  the  system  than  the  week-day's  slavery. 
And  this  health-sapping  time-killer  they  call  pleasure.  I  often  think,, 
when  I  see  our  young  men  and  their  elders  flocking  on  Sundays  to  the 
card-table,  of  that  Oriental  traveller  who,  watching  a  game  of  cricket,  and 
hearing  that  many  of  those  playing  were  rich  men,  asked:  'why  they  did 
not  pay  some  poor  people  to  do  it  for  them,'  and  wonder  what  he  would 
have  said,  had  he  entered  one  of  those  card-rooms,  and  seen  what  the 
players  called  pleasure.  With  not  a  few  the  Sunday  evening  witnesses 
a  repetition  at  home  of  the  afternoon's  nerve-straining  at  the  club. 

For  others  again  the  Sunday  brings  straining  and  tiring  work  in  the 
shape  of  attending  meetings.  Unlike  most  of  our  Non-Jewish  neigh- 
bors, who,  to  keep  their  Sabbath  holy,  take  enough  of  time  from  their 
week-day  toil  to  attend  to  their  various  meetings,  those  overwhelming 
numbers  of  ours,  who  violate  their  Saturday,  and  spurn  a  Jewish  Sunday- 
Service.and  compelled  by  law  to  abstain  from  their  week-day  labors  on 
Sundays,  turn  it  into  a  general  meeting-day.  Their  Conventions,  the 
Annual  Meetings,  their  Board-  and  Committee-  and  Society-Meetings, 
their  School-examinations,  are  set  for  that  day.  Many  a  one  is  often 
required  to  attend  two  or  three  or  more  of  them  on  a  Sunday,  and  when 
night  comes,  it  finds  him  even  more  exhausted  than  on  any  of  the  pre- 
ceding six  working-days.  Thus  is  the  Jew  without  a  Sabbath,  without 
a  Day  of  Rest,  but  with  an  abundance  of  toil  that  saps  his  health  and 
diseases  his  mind.  And  this  is  the  reason  why  he  furnishes  in  Europe 
twice  and  three  times  as  many  mental  sufferers  as  his  Non-Jewish  neigh- 
bor, and  then  I  have  no  donbt  many  more  times  here. 

This  is  a  truth,  made  clear  by  the  inexorable  figures  of  statistics,  that 


of  all  people  the  Jew  is  the  greatest  sufferer  from  Over-work  and  Under- 
rest.  His  constitution,  that  braved  the  storms  of  ages,  is 
breaking  down.  His  brain,  that  has  illumined  half  the 
•world,  is  darkening.  His  nerves,  that  endured  the  strain 
of  centuries,  are  snapping.  His  heart,  that  once  secured  him  greater 
longevity,  and  his  digestive  system,  that  once  sent  rich  measures  of 
healthy  blood  through  his  system,  are  failing,  under  the  heat  and  pressure 
and  break-neck  speed  of  American  slavery.  Has  he  been  preserved  for 
such  an  inglorious  end  ?  Is  he  hastening,  here  and  in  Europe,  to  his  own 
destruction  ?  There  is  certainly  no  other  alternative,  unless  he  applies 
the  only  remedy  at  hand.  He  can  not  cure  himself,  at  once,  of  his  over- 
fondness  for  indoor  and  brain-draining  vocations,  nor  lift  himself  out  of 
the  life-sapping  whirlpool  into  which  keen  competition  has  forced  him. 
But  he  can  have  his  Sabbath,  his  weekly  Day  of  Rest  and  Recreation  and 
Sanctification,  the  only  real  pleasure  on  earth  that  he  can  have  for  noth- 
ing, and  that  can  secure  him  greater  good  than  all  the  others  combined, 
that  will  prove  that 

"Joy  and  Temperance  and  Repose 
Slam  the  door  on  the  dfl&or's  nose." 

— Friedr.  v.  t,ogau,  Transl.  by  Longfellow. 

To  be  sure,  under  present  overwhelming  Gentile  environment,  he 
cannot  advantageously  make  Saturday  his  weekly  day  of  Rest.     But  this 

is  no  reason  why  he  cannot  rest  and  recreate  and  worship 

•     Better  a  Sunday- 
Oil  Sunday.     It  has  ceased  to  be  a   matter  of  Sentiment.    Sabbath  than  no 

It  has  become  a  matter  of  Life  or  Death.  It  is  a  flagrant  Sabbath- 
transgression  against  the  Fourth  Commandment  to  work  seven  days  in 
the  week  ;  it  is  not  the  slightest  violation  to  work  six  days  and  to  rest  on 
the  seventh,  even  if  that  seventh  be  Sunday.  Only  a  cruel  monster,  not 
a  God,  could  punish  a  man  for  preferring  to  worship  his  God  and  to  rest 
from  his  labors  on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  to  profaning  both  the  Satur- 
day and  the  Sunday,  and  every  other  day  of  the  week,  with  slavish  toil. 
What  matters  it  that  Christianity  borrowed  its  first  day  Sabbath  from  the 
Solar-worship  of  Heathens.  •  Our  own  Seventh  day  Sabbath  was  derived 
'from  equal  Heathen  sources.*  What  matters  it,  if  Christians  connect  a 
certain  dogma  with  the  Sunday  ;  our  resting  and  recreating  and  worship- 
ping on  the  same  day,  does  by  no  means  involve  the  acceptance  of  that 
or  any  other  dogma.  Unitarians  worship  on  Sunday,  as  do  the  Trinita- 
rians, and  the  former  are  not  the  least  disturbed  by  the  different  dogmas 
of  the  latter.  Ingersoll  makes  of  Christmas  as  joyous  a  holiday  as  the 
most  pious  Christian,  without  thereby  subscribing  to  the  myth  connected 
with  it.  Some  of  our  own  chief  Holy  Days  are  of.  Heathen  origin  ;  our 
having  made  them  subserve  Jewish  purposes,  has  j&H^tended  to  increase 
their  sanctity.  Christianity  has  taken  much  from  us ;  it  is  no  humilia- 
tion to  take  something  good  from  it. 


*  "  See  the  Saturday  and  Sunday-Sabbath,"  Series  I,  Lect.  XX. 


And  in  taking  it,  we  do  it  not  as  a  compliment,  but  to  serve  our  own 
highest  ends.  We  save  our  lives.  We  preserve  ourselves  as  a  people. 

Since  we  will  not,  or  cannot,  keep  our  own  Oriental 
orqDeath>n°fI'ife  Saturday-Sabbath,  let  us,  for  our  lives'  sake,  keep  at  least 

the  Occidental  Sunday-Sabbath.  It  has  already,  in  one 
sense,  been  made  obligatory  upon  us  by  the  law  of  the  land.  Our  shops 
are  closed,  our  busy  hives  of  industry  are  hushed.  We  suffer  no  financial 
loss  by  keeping  Sunday.  Let  us  also  suffer  no  less  of  vital  powers.  Let 
us  obey  the  scriptural  injunction,  and  keep  one  day  holy,  holy  not  in  the 
old  Rabbinical  or  Puritanic  sense,  that  turned  the  Sabbath  into  a  day  of 
yet  greater  hardships,  but  in  the  sense  of  that  which  the  Prophet  Isaiah 
advocated,  a  day  of  "Joy  and  Temperance  and  Repose,"  a  day  that  shall 
rest  overtaxed  parts,  and  bring  others  into  activity  that  have  been  sup- 
pressed during  the  week,  that  shall  recuperate  lost  strength,  repair  dam- 
ages in  the  system,  rake  out  the  ashes  and  cinders,  and  start  the  fire  ablaz- 
ing  vigorously  for  the  healthful  resumption  of  the  week's  work.  Conse- 
crate the  forenoon  to  God,  in  worship;  the  afternoon  to  Nature,  in  health- 
ful out-door  recreation,  the  evening  to  the  Family,  in  sweet  and  happy 
reunion,  and  in  joyful  play  and  converse  around  the  domestic  hearth,  and 
you  spend  the  ideal  Day  of  Rest.  Your  Sabbath  then  will  be  a  sweet 
and  refreshing  oasis  in  the  week's  wilderness  of  toil.  Its  prayer  and  ser- 
mon, its  song  and  music,  its  smile  and  laughter,  will  send  fresh  roses 
into  bleached  cheeks,  and  new  fire  into  dimmed  eyes,  and  new  flashes  of 
intellect  into  exhausted  brain,  will  smoothen  out  the  wrinkles  which  the 
week's  worries  have  left  behind,  will  straighten  out  the  care-bent  back, 
and  make  man  look  up  not  as  an  automaton,  not  as  a  human  machine, 
but  as  the  lord  of  creation,  a  child  of  God. 


Children's  Rights  and  Parents'  Wrongs. 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  March  2oth,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx,  12)  yo-   jimx'   j;^1?   px   J1X1 
(Deut.  xxiv,  16) 
(Malach.  iii,  24) 


.     .     .      '  Untaught  in  youth  my  heart  to  tame 
My  springs  of  life  were  poisoned." 

Byron,  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage. 

Of  moral  philosophers  we  have  had  many,  and  of  sermonizers  on  the 
virtues  and  vices  we  ,have  had  yet  more,  and  voluminous  is  the  literature 
they  have  left  behind  them,  but  I  doubt  whether  any  one 
of  them  has  portrayed  the  lowest  vices  and  the  highest  vir-    moral  philos- 
tues  as  forceful  as  Shakespeare  did  in  the  five  brief  acts  of  °Phy- 
his  "King  Lear."     Within  the  few  pages  of  this  tearful  tragedy  he  con- 
trasts all  that  is  most  vicious  and  all  that  is  most  beautiful  in  human 
nature,  —  lust,  ambition,  avarice,  ingratitude,  injustice,  deception,  hatred, 
treachery,  cruelty,  with  purity,  sincerity,  love,  loyalty,  forbearance,  endur- 
ance, forgiveness,  unselfishness,  courage  —  in  language  and  in  action  so 
powerful,  that  were  all  the  sermons  and  systems,  all  the  rules  and  treatises, 
on  morality  suddenly  to  become  lost,  and  this  play  to  remain,   I  verily 
believe  enough  could  be  drawn  from  it  to  reconstruct  all  that  had  been 
lost. 

In  the  delineation  of  one  trait  especially,  in  children's  treatment  of  an 
aged  parent,  he  reaches  a  climax  perhaps  unequaled  in  the  whole  world's 
literature.     What  character  more  repulsive  than  that  of 
Goneril  or  Regan  ;  what  character  more  attractive  than    fifiaHngratitude!" 
that  of  Cordelia  !     What  deception   greater  than   that     • 
wherewith  the  two  first-named  daughters  wheedle  out  of  their  aged  father 
his  power  and  possessions,  under  the  semblance  of  love  and  devotion; 
and  what  ingratitude  more  heinous  than  that  wherewith  they  drive  a 
weak,  old  sire  into  misery  and  despair,  into  madness  and  death  !     What 
parent's  pang  keener  than  that  which  groans  out  of  his  cry  of  anguish  : 

"  Ingratitude  !  thou  marble-hearted  fiend, 
More  hideous,  when  thou  showest  thee  in  a  child, 
Than  the  sea-monster  !" 

or  out  of  the  curse  which  he  launches  upon  Goneril1  s  head,  that  her  own 
child  may 


.     .     .     "  be  a  thwart  disnatur'd  torment  to  her  ! 

Let  it  stamp  wrinkles  in  her  brow  of  youth 

With  cadent  tears  fret  channels  in  her  cheeks  ; 

Turn  all  her  mother's  pains,  and  benefits, 

To  laughter  and  contempt  ;  that  she  may  feel 

How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 

To  have  a  thankless  child." King  Lear,  Act  I,  Sc.  iv. 

What  filial  affection  sweeter  than  that  wherewith  noble  Cordelia  comforts 
her  much-suffering  father,  rescues  from  the  brink  of  madness  him  whom 
her  sisters  had  grievously  wronged,  and  who  himself  had  grievously 
wronged  her  ! 

This  tragedy  is  a  general  favorite  of  both  audience  and  actor.     Few 
of  Shakespeare's  plays  keep  the  auditor  as  interested  and  arouse  his  pas- 
sions as  this,  and  not  one  yields  to  the  impersonator  of 
The  sympathies  .  i  tr-         r 

with  the  wronged    the  leading   character  as  rich  a  reward  as  King  Lear. 

Unlike  such  rolls  as  Richard  III,  Yago,  or  Macbeth,  whose 
meanness  of  character  detracts  considerably  from  the  audience's  apprecia- 
tion of  the  excellence  of  the  acting,  the  impersonator  of  King  Lear  holds 
the  tearful  sympathy  of  his  audience  to  the  last.  It  is  the  same  with 
Cordelia;  while  her  sisters  Goneril  and  Regan  reap  for  their  reward  the 
audience's  silent  contempt  or  loud  hisses  of  disapproval.  Othello' }s  or 
Macbeth' s  butcheries,  Cassius'  conspiracy  or  Hamlet's  uncle's  crime,  do 
not  outrage  our  feelings  as  much  as  these  daughters'  base  ingratitude. 
The  holiness,  the  inviolability  of,  and  the  filial  reverence  due  to,  parent- 
hood are  so  stamped  into  our  very  souls,  that  every  fibre  in  us  cries  aloud: 
"Foul  Treason,"  "Inhuman  Barbarity,"  "Unpardonable  Sin,"  at  the 
sight  of  wrong  done  by  child  against  a  parent,  and  more  especially  when 
such  a  parent  is  aged  and  helpless  and  in  want. 

Yet,  without  in  the  least  condoning  the  offense  of  the  two  daughters 
of  King  Lear,  I  can  not  share  all  the  sympathies  lavished  upon  the  father, 

nor  all  the  vituperation  heaped  upon  the  daughters.  To 
Children's  ingra-  •>••>-.  r<-  _*.  •  r 

titude  result  of  me  Cordelia  s  nobility  of  heart  is  more  of  a  surprise  than 
parental  neglect.  ner  ^WQ  sj[sters'  cruelties.  These  two  were,  we  have  reason 
to  believe,  the  natural  product  of  a  father's  weakness  and  indulgence  and 
folly.  The  opening  scene,  in  which  he  shows  himself  the  dupe  of  the 
flattering  tongues  of  two  of  his  daughters,  and  disinherits  the  other 
because,  being  true  in  her  filial  affection,  she  scorns  those  wiles  by  which 
her  sisters  secure  their  ends,  shows  but  too  plainly  the  kind  of  metal  his 
fatherhood  was  made  of,  and  the  kind  of  example  he  must  have  set  his 
children. 

A  child's  character  is  not  a  spontaneous  growth  ;  it  is  largely  what 
heredity  and  environment,"constitution  and  training,  make  it.  As  is  the 
mold  that  is  prepared  for  it  so  is  the  form  in  which  it  crystallizes  itself. 
If  the  pattern  is  for  a  sinner,  a  sinner  the  product  will  be.  Monstrous 
characters  like  those  of  Goneril  and  Regan  are  not  self-creations.  The 
world  condemns  their  ingratitude,  and  sympathizes  with  their  aged  father. 
Did  it  know  the  whole  story,  could  it  tell  to  what  parental  omission  or 
commission  the  children's  unnatural  hard-heartedness  was  due,  it  would 


perhaps  censure  less  and  pity  more.  The  uncorrected  evil  of  the  parent 
shows  itself  in  an  intensified  form  in  the  child.  Where  you  see  a  Lear 
expect  a  Goneril.  Where  you  see  a  guilty  Goneril  look  for  the  indulgent 
Lear. 

Of  all  crimes,  such  heartlessness  as  these  daughters  are  guilty  of  are 
exceedingly  rare.  Regard  for  parents  is  the  virtue  of  every  well-raised 
child,  more  especially  of  a  child  of  the  gentler  sex.  When,  therefore,  you 
see  daughters  pitilessly  driving  an  aged  parent  into  madness  and  death, 
hold  them  not  responsible  for  all  their  guilt.  Their  cruelty  is  probably 
the  bitter  fruitage  of  a  parent's  sowing.  Where  you  see  the  opposite, 
where  you  see  a  most  reverential  treatment  of  parents,  when  you  see  a 
child's  noble  self-sacrifice  for  an  aged  parent's  pleasure  and  convenience, 
a  child  holding  no  burden  too  great,  no  expense  too  heavy,  to  make  a 
parent's  closing  scene  of  life  a  bright  and  happy  one,  be  assured  that 
such  parents  do  but  reap  what  they  have  sown.  When  you  read  of  a 
Washington  hastening,  immediately  after  his  election  to  the  presidency 
of  the  United  States,  to  his  aged  mother,  to  clasp  her  to  his  bosom,  -and 
to  tell  her  how  much  of  all  his  honors  was  the  work  of  her  own  dear 
hands  ;  or  when  you  read  of  Garfield  insisting  upon  his  aged  mother 
standing  by  his  side  while  taking  the  oath  of  office,  and  falling  upon  her 
neck  in  the  sight  of  the  thousands  of  people  assembled,  as  soon  as  he  had 
been  invested  with  the  power  of  the  highest  office  in  the  land,  be  assured 
that  both  these  aged  mothers  merited  such  filial  reverence,  that  their  toil, 
their  self-sacrifice,  their  regarding  the  raising  of  their  children  as  a  sacred 
task  and  a  responsible  duty,  their  inculcating  in  their  children,  from  their 
earliest  infancy,  principles  of  integrity,  of  usefulness,  of  piety,  made  it 
possible  for  their  sons  to  occupy  the  Presidential  chair  of  the  United 
States. 

With  so  much  of  parental  neglect  and  ignorance  and  false  training 
abounding,  it  is  surprising  that  the  Gonerils  and  Regans  are  not  more 
numerous,  and  that  the  Cordelias  are  so  frequent.  To 

...     .,  .  ,  -^  ,-  1    1     i -,    ,1      L     Parenthood  fares 

me  it  is  the  strongest  evidence  of  the  powerful  hold  that   better  than  it 

parenthood  has  upon  the  affections  of  its  offspring,  and  often  deserves- 
of  the  safeguards  which  nature  herself  has  placed  around  the  most  sacred 
relationship  on  earth,  to  keep  the  home  intact,  and  to  prevent  society 
from  going  to  pieces.  The  infant's  absolute  dependence  for  food  and 
shelter,  for  comfort  and  protection,  on  its  parents,  the  parents'  power  to 
grant  or  to  deny  these,  to  smile  or  to  frown,  to  caress  or  to  strike,  engen- 
ders early  feelings  of  awe,  of  gratefulness,  of  obedience,  of  respect,  that 
endure  long  beyond  the  period  when  the  chiles  dependence  ceases,  even 
long  beyond  the  time  when  parents'  weakness  and  imperfections  become 
evident.  Parents'  gradual  decline  into  the  helplessness  of  old  age,  their 
inability  to  struggle  for  themselves  when  nearing  the  end  of  their  days, 
recalls  to  children  the  time  of  their  own  helplessness,  and  prompts  them 
to  do  whatever  they  can  to  make  the  closing  scene  of  their  parents'  lives 
as  free  from  care  as  possible.  The  absolute  power  of  parents  at  the  one 
end,  and  their  helplessness  and  dependence  at  the  other,  are  weapons 


which  nature  herself  has  placed  into  their  hands  to  enforce  their  children's 
obedience,  respect,  consideration,  and  with  them  they  easily  conquer  the 
hearts  of  their  offspring,  often  even  undeserved.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
the  Cordelias  are  far  more  frequent  than  the  Gonerils  and  the  Regans, 
and  that  weak  and  indulgent  and  neglectful  Lears  frequently  fare  as  well 
by  theii  children  as  did  the  noble  mothers  of  Washington  and  Garfield. 

It  often  seems  to  me  that  the  Fifth  Commandment  of  our  Deca- 
logue is  superfluous,  that  nature  engraved  it  on  the  human  heart  as  an 

eternal  and  universal  law  long  before  it  was  decreed  by 
Fifth  Command- 
ment true  in  an  human  legislator.  We  certainly  find  as  beautiful  illustra- 
tions of  filial  love  and  honor  before  the  Proclamation  of 
the  Decalogue  as  after,  and  among  Polytheists  as  well  as  among  Monothe- 
ists.  Often  it  seems  to  me,  that  if  the  Fifth  Commandment  had  had  a 
slight  alteration  in  its  text,  that  instead  of  reading:  "Honor  thy  father  and 
thy  mother, ' '  etc.  it  would  have  read  :  ' '  Honor  thy  son  and  thy  daughter, 
that  thy  days  may  be  long"  we  would  have  suffered  nothing  by  that 
change,  on  the  contrary,  we  would  have  been  greatly  benefited  by  it. 

It  is  not  the  parents  that  suffer  as  much  from  a  want  of  honor  from 
their  children,  as  the  children  from  a  want  of  honor  from  their  parents. 

On  the  side  of  the  parents  there  stands  arrayed  Nature, 
Children  suffer 
more  from  Law,  Religion,  Public  Opinion,  Personal  Power ;  on  the 

side  of  the  weak  and  dependent,  of  the  helpless  and  speech- 
less babe,  there  stands  nothing.  Absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  those  into 
whose  care  and  keeping  it  is  placed,  it  may  be  diseased  physically,  neg- 
lected morally,  dwarfed  intellectually,  crippled  spiritually,  vice  upon  vice 
may  be  stamped  upon  its  soul,  burden  upon  burden  may  be  laid  upon  its 
weak  shoulders,  wrong  upon  wrong  may  be  heaped  upon  it,  and  there  is 
no  power  to  stop  Parental  Absolutism,  no  power  to  protect  Dependent 
Childhood.  Imprisoned  in  its  cradle,  locked  within  its  four  walls,  too 
weak  of  tongue  to  tell  its  pitiful  story  of  suffering,  too  weak  of  hand  to 
break  its  fetters,  too  weak  of  mind  to  grasp  the  misery  for  which  it  is 
fitted,  the  world  without  goes  on  in  woful  ignorance  of  what  is  going  on 
within,  prating  everywhere,  in  school,  in  church,  in  press,  on  platform, 
its  endless  platitudes  about  the  honor  due  to  parents,  without  bestowing 
a  thought  on  the  honor  due  to  children. 

Our  age  has  much  to  say  against  the  tyranny  of  might  over  right, 
against  the  power  of  the  strong  to  press  down  the  weak,  and  to  keep  them 
down,  and  to  slave  or  starve  or  punish  them  into  silence. 
pareenytsa"ny  °f      But  what  tyranny  greater  than  that  of  parents  !     What 
%  tyranny  older  than  theirs  !     From  the  remotest  antiquity 

their  superior  might  constituted  within  the  family  the  highest  right. 
From  time  immemorial  unto  this,  parents  have  thought  themselves  gen- 
erous, deserving  of  the  highest  praise  and  life-long  gratitude  for  the  morsel 
of  food  and  for  the  pittance  of  care  they  bestowed  on  those  helpless  little 
creatures  for  whose  existence  they,  and  they  alone,  were  wholly  respon- 
sible. The  relationship  between  parents  and  children  has  much  resem- 
bled, and  in  many  quarters  still  resembles,  that  between  despots  and  their 


subjects.  Parents  sacrificed  their  children  to  their  gods  to  bribe  their 
favor  or  to  assuage  their  wrath.  They  visited  capital  punishment  upon 
them  for  disobedience — even  when  such  disobedience  was  justified.  They 
strangled  new-born  babes,  especially  when  of  the  female  sex,  or  exposed 
them  to  cold  or  hunger  or  to  the  tooth  of  ferocious  beast,  if  they  wished 
to  rid  themselves  of  the  trouble  and  expense  of  raising  them.  They  sold 
their  children  into  slavery  and  rioted  with  the  money  realized.  They 
gave  them  into  marriage  to  whomsoever  pleased  the  parents  best.  And 
yet  other  outrages  they  perpetrated  upon  their  helpless  children,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  question  the  rightfulness  of  their  proceedings  much 
less  to  stop  their  tyranny. 

In  the  great  conflict  of  right  against  might,  in  the  general  uprising  of 
the  oppressed  weak  against  the  tyrannical  strong,  that  is  being  waged  in 
modern  times,  the  worst  phases  of  parental  despotism  have 
passed  away.    But  much  of  its  spirit  lingers  still.'    Parents   their  rights  atid 
are  still  too  prone  to  think  only  of  their  rights  and  not  of  Duties their 
their  sacred  and  responsible  duties  as  well,  still  too  much 
inclined  to  pose  before  their  children  as  their  great  benefactors,  without 
considering  that  their  children  are  not  the  benefited  from  their  own  choice, 
and  that  the  sunshine  and  merriment  of  their  sweet  and  innocent  infancy 
and  gay  and  happy  childhood  more  than  return  all  the  benefits  they 
receive,  still  too  eager  to  din  into  their  children's  ears  what  reverence  they 
owe  their  parents,  without  remembering,  that  there  is  a  reverence  which 
parents,  above  all  others,  owe  their  children,  a  reverence  which,  if  shown 
to  children  from  the  earliest  stages  of  their  lives,  would  make  their  rever- 
encing their  parents  the  first  and  the  last  and  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
their  virtues. 

Such  parental  reverence  does  not  show  itself  in  outward  form  and 
ceremony.  It  lies  nearer  to  the  fountain  of  affection,  and  closer  to  the 
seat  of  intellect.  It  reveals  itself  in  the  conscientious 
spirit  in  which  father  and  mother  assume  the  sacred  office  ^no^child^etf11 
of  parenthood.  It  reveals  itself  in  the  manner  in  which 
they  feel  themselves  impressed  with  the  awful  responsibility  of  shaping 
the  career  of  a  human  being  for  glory  or  shame,  for  success  or  failure,  for 
life  or  death.  '  It  reveals  itself  in  the  mode  in  which  they  enter  upon  the 
discharge  of  the  sacred  office  of  parenthood,  piously  resolved  never  to 
allow  a  private  pleasure  or  a  public  duty  to  crowd  itself  between  them  and 
their  child,  that  no  study  shall  be  too  difficult,  no  burden  too  heavy,  no 
sacrifice  too  great,  for  the  proper  raising  of  that  tender  bud  of  life  that 
God  has  entrusted  to  their  care  and  keeping. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  among  all  the  reverences  a  single  one  on 
whose  faithful  discharge  more  of  individual  and  communal  happiness 
depends  than  on  this,  and  equally  difficult  would  it  be  to 
find  a  reverence  more  sinned  against  than  this.     Never   ^i 
have  children  sinned  half  as  much  against  their  parents 
as  parents  have  against  their  children.     Never  have  children  been  half  as 
ignorant  of  the  duties  they  owe  their  parents,  as  parents  have  been  igno- 


rant  of  the  duties  they  owe  their  children.  For  every  tear  'a.n  "ungrateful 
child  has  forced  from  parent's  eye,  a  thousand  have  been  forced  from 
children  on  account  of  parental  neglect.  For  every  parent  forced  by  an 
undutiful  child  into  an  untimely  grave,  a  thousand  precious  blossoms  of 
humanity  have  been  forced  to  exchange  the  cradle  for  the  grave  on 
account  of  parental  ignorance.  For  every  parent  forced  to  totter  to  his 
grave  neglected  and  forsaken  by  his  own  children,  a  thousand  children 
have  staggered  through  life  under  the  load  of  disease,  corruption,  vicious 
habits,  laid  upon  them  by  neglectful  parents.  One-half  of  the  crimes  that 
the  criminal  court  is  obliged  to  deal  with,  might  have  been  cured  on 
parent's  knee.  Half  the  vices  that  infest  society  might  have  been  rooted 
out  in  childhood  as  easily  as  is  the  weed  from  garden-bed,  had  but  parents 
acquainted  themselves  with  its  existence,  and  with  the  proper  means  for 
its  eradication. 

Often  when  I  hear  parents  complaining  of  the  misconduct  of  their 
children,  I  hear  them  telling  at  the  same  time  their  own  neglect  and 
ignorance.  It  was  the  Philosopher  Plato,  I  believe,  who 
n  are  made  it:  his  business  to  correct  the  parent  instead  of  his 
misbehaving  child.  How  could  the  child  act  differently 
abroad,  when  never  differently  taught  at  home  ?  Or  how  could  a  child 
be  differently  taught  at  home,  when  parents  have  not  the  faintest  notion 
of  the  proper  raising  of  children,  or  if  they  have,  will  not  sacrifice  their 
time  and  pleasure,  and  make  a  slave  of  themselves  for  their  child,  when 
they  can  get  a  nurse-girl  to  tend  it  for  a  paltry  sum  ?  One  of  our  news- 
papers reported  the  other  day  this  little  conversation  between  a  policeman 
and  a  little  nurse-girl,  who  was  wheeling  a  baby-coach,  accompanied  by  a 
few  children,  and  by  a  noisy  and  troublesome  dog.  "  Do  you  have  to 
take  care  of  the  dog?"  asked  the  Policeman,  to  which  the  little  nurse- 
girl  replied  :  "No;  the  missis  says  I'm  too  young  and  inexperienced. 
I  only  look  after  the  children. ' ' 

laughable  as  this  little  episode  is,  it  conveys  a  tearful  rather  than  an 
amusing  story.  We  open  the  right  of  parenthood  to  all,  without  making 
physical  and  moral  and  intellectual  fitness  for  that  sacred  and  responsible 
relationship  a  legal  and  a  moral  pre-requisite.  Young  m^ried  couples 
with  little  ones  at  home,  often  hurl  themselves  into  those  whirlpools  of 
society-dissipations  and  excitements,  which,  if  they  have  a  place  at  all, 
belong  to  the  less  responsible  period  of  single  life.  It  is  a  frequent  com- 
plaint of  unmarried  society  people  that  their  greatest  rivals  are  married 
people,  who  ought  to  be  at  home  at  the  side  of  the  cradle,  or  in  the  nur- 
sery in  the  company  of  their  growing  and  developing  children,  instead  of 
leaving  them  to  hired  domestics,  or  to  aged  and  decrepit  relatives,  or 
under  the  influence  of  all  sorts  of  sleep-inducing  drugs.  Night  after  night, 
afternoon  after  afternoon,  children  are  left  to  themselves,  or  to  the  care 
of  those  worse  than  themselves.  Their  little  tongues  that  long  to  ask  a 
thousand  questions  of  their  parents,  their  little  arms  that  long  to  twine 
'themselves  around  their  parents'  necks,  like  the  tendrils  of  the  vine 
around  the  sturdy  oak,  their  little  heads  that  long  to  rest  on  parents' 


bosom,  their  innocent  eyes  that  fain  would  look  into  parents'  eyes 
before  sinking  to  sleep,  find  no  such  sweet  occupation.  I  have  read 
of  a  mother  who  made  it  a  practice  always  to  take  her  little  girl  in 
her  arms  just  before  being  sent  to  bed,  and  to  hold  her  close  to  her 
heart  for  a  while,  looking  into  her  eyes,  then  kissing  the  little  one,  say- 
ing, "  That  is  good-night,  dear  ;  go  to  bed  like  a  good  little  girl."  One 
afternoon  the  mother  was  detained  from  home  until  late  at  night.  Re- 
turning, the  parents  were  met  at  the  door  by  the  little  girl,  very  wide 
awake.  Papa  picked  her  up,  carrying  her  to  the  nurse  saying,  "How  is, 
this?  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  and  this  child  not  asleep."  "  I  couldn't  coax 
her  to  bed,"  said  the  girl ;  "she  insisted  she  must  see  her  manima  first." 
"  Papa,"  said  the  little  maiden  very  seriously,  "  I  tan't  do  to  bed  till  I'se 
yooked  into  my  mamma's  eyes;"  and  climbing  into  her  mother's  lap, 
taking  the  maternal  face  between  her  two  little  hands,  she  gazed  long 
and  earnestly  into  the  eyes  so  necessary  to  her  comfort  then  one  long, 
hearty  hug  by  both,  and  she  sprang  to  the  floor,  holding  out  her  hand  to, 
the  nurse,  saying  cheerily  to  papa,  "I'se  yeady  now.  Dood  night."* 
Ah,  how  rare  are  such  scenes  as  these  among  our  fashionable  society- 
people  !  How  rare  are  the  opportunities  of  children  fondly  looking  into 
their  mother's  eyes  before  retiring,  to  draw  from  them  that  inspiration, 
that  love,  that  reverence  that  shall  abide  with  them  through  life,  that 
shall  save  them  from  temptation  and  from  wrong  !  Slight  as  is  the  atten- 
tion the  little  ones  receive- during  the  character- forming  periods  of  their 
life  from  mothers  who  move  in  society,  still  less  attention  is  accorded  to 
them  by  their  fathers.  They  have  no  time  for  such  sentimentalities. 
They  have  serious  matters  to  attend  to.  They  have  money  to  make,  all 
day  long,  and  all  week  long,  often  the  Sabbath-day  included.  The  even- 
ing finds  them  generally,  when  not  seeking  diversion  away  from  home, 
tired,  or  absorbed  in  the  newspapers,  or  out  of  sorts,  that  the  children  are 
never  so  happy  than  when  furthest  away  from  their  parent.  Oh,  for 
another  Socrates  to  shout  from  the  house  tops  ' '  What  mean  ye,  fellow- 
citizens,  that  ye  turn  every  stone  to  scrape  wealth  together,  and  take  so 
little  care  of  your  children,  to  whom,  one  day,  you  must  relinquish  it  all," 
and  who,  perhaps,  will  waste  and  squander  it  all  the  sooner  by  reason  of 
parental  neglect. 

Parental  neglect  is  not  the  worst  evil  that  helpless  and  innocent 
children  have  to  contend  against,  parental  ignorance  is  by  far  their  great- 
est foe.  Of  home-staying,  and  their  children-minding 

How  children  are 
parents  we  have  an  overwhelmingly  larger  number  than    ruined  by  pareu- 

of  those  gay  society-folks,  who  look  upon  children  as  a  tl 
troublesome  incumbrance,  and  are  happiest  when  without  them.  All 
would  have  been  well,  if  to  their  home-  and  children-loving  virtues  they 
would  yet  have  added  a  knowledge  of  how  to  train  children's  hearts  and. 
souls  and  minds  and  hands  aright,  or,  mindful  of  the  Law  of  Heredity, 
how  to  fit  themselves  physically,  morally,  intellectually,  before  yet  chosen 
for  the  office  of  parenthood.  It  was  Goethe  who  said:  "Afan  konnte 


*Mrs.  S.  C.  Jones,  "  The  Co-Education  of  Parent  and  Child." 


erzogene  Kinder  gebaren,  wenn  die  Eltern  erzogen  wdren,"  that  it  were 
easy  to  raise  well-trained  children,  if  well-trained  the  parents  were  them- 
selves. But  such  well-trained  parents  are  rarities.  With  all  the  aid  that 
modern  knowledge  gives,  with  all  the  information  on  child-nature  that 
physiologists  and  psychologists  are  only  too  eager  to  impart,  with  all  the 
literature  on  the  proper  training  of  children  at  their  command,  there  is  a 
woful,  a  criminal,  ignorance  of  how  to  rear  children  physically  healthy 
and  morally  and  intellectually  sound,  as  the  hundreds  of  little  graves  in 
our  cemeteries,  the  thousand  inmates  of  hospitals,  asylums,  penal  and 
corrective  institutes,  as  the  tens  of  thousands  ruined  characters,  stifled 
talents,  blasted  lives,  tearfully  prove.  Where  positive  knowledge  can  be 
had,  parents  choose  to  experiment,  and  frivolously  they  turn  into  a  piece  of 
guess-work  what  should  be  treated  as  an  exact  science.  Time  enough, 
they  think,  to  train  children,  when  they  shall  have  grown  sufficiently  to 
understand  or  to  be  reasoned  with,  or  when  they  shall  get  into  the  teach- 
er's hand  at  school.  Little  do  they  dream  that  the  education  of  a  child, 
that  is  in  possession  of  all  its  faculties,  begins  at  the  moment  it  first 
beholds  the  light  of  day — not  to  go  as  far  back  as  distinguished  scientists 
go,  who  assure  us  that  a  child's  training  commences  when  that  of  its 
parents  and  grandparents  begins — The  younger  its  days  the  more  active 
its  sense-perception.  To  its  wondering  little  eyes  and  ears  every  surround- 
ing sight  and  sound  is  strange  and  novel,  and  not  one  of  them  fails  to 
stamp  itself  upon  its  young  and  receptive  mind.  Thicker  and  thicker 
the  painter  Observation  lays  the  colors  on  the  Life-Picture  that  is  to  be, 
and  that  will  never  never  fade.  Faster  and  faster  its  glowing  and  liquid 
mind  pours  itself  into  the  mould  that  environment  shapes  for  it,  and 
where  it  gradually  hardens  into  permanent,  unchangeable  form.  Facial 
features,  voice,  language,  action,  copy  more  and  more  those  of  the  people 
surrounding  it.  Silently  the  little  threads  of  Observation  and  Experience 
twist  themselves,  even  in  the  cradle,  into  traits  and  habits,  till  threads 
grow  into  cords,  and  cords  into  ropes,  and  ropes  gradually  into  cables, 
which  not  all  the  after-training  of  after-life  can  break. 

Yes,  Parents,  change  the  reading  of  the  Fifth  Commandment  to: 
'  Honor  thy  son  and  thy  daughter,  that  thy  days  may  be  long.'      Honor 

them  when  young,  and  they  will  honor  you  when  you 
Honor  thy  chil- 
dren and  thy  are  old.  As  you  deal  with  them  so  will  they  deal  with 
days  will  be  long.  yQU  Honor  them  with  proper  preparation  for,  and  with 
conscientious  discharge  of,  the  office  of  parenthood.  Honor  them  with 
considering  parenthood  holy,  and  childhood  holier  still.  Honor  them  by 
sacredly  keeping  from  their  developing  mind  every  noxious  influence. 
There  is  a  bird  in  the  tropics  that  uses  for  the  construction  of  its  nest  a 
certain  leaf  the  aroma  of  which  is  poison  to  serpents.  When  a  serpent, 
climbing  after  the  dainty  morsel,  comes  in  front  of  such  a  nest,  it  drops 
from  the  tree  as  if  struck  by  lightning.  Thus,  parents,  surround  ye  your 
little  ones  with  those  protecting  influences  which  will  put  every  evil  to 
flight  that  ventures  near  them.  Honor  them  with  a  pure  personal 
example,  remembering  that  parents'  actions  are  the  models  children 


pattern  theirs  after.  Honor  them  with  the  gentle  word  of  persuasion  in 
preference  to  the  harsh  command  of  authority  or  the  keen  sting  of  pun- 
ishment. Alpine  climbers  tell  us  that  at  certain  seasons  in  the  spring  the 
traveller  must  beware  of  making  the  slightest  noise  while  ascending,  for 
often  the  winter's  accumulated  snow  hangs  so  threateningly  on  the  steep 
slopes  above,  that  a  loud  word,  or  the  striking  of  the  Alpine-stick  against 
a  stone  suffices  to  start  an  avalanche,  that  dashes  to  destruction  every- 
thing that  lies  in  its  path.  So  does  often  a  parent's  loud  word  of  anger 
or  painful  chastisement,  start  within  the  child  an  avalanche  of  passion  of 
stubbornness,  of  rebellion,  of  viciousness,  that  utterly  ruins  what  might 
have  proven  a  noble  character.  Honor  them  with  your  frequent  converse 
and  companionship.  Leave  not  to  nurse  what  is  a  mother's  sacred  task, 
nor  to  teacher  what  is  a  father's  solemn  duty.  Honor  them  with  not 
being  over-indulgent  nor  unreasonably  severe.  Think  no  sacrifice  too 
great  to  win  their  confidence  and  their  love.  Early  make  them  feel  that 
though  the  whole  world  may  condemn  and  spurn,  their  parents  will  for- 
give them  if  repentant,  that  though  all  the  world  may  turn  them  from 
their  doors,  their  parents'  hearts  and  homes  will  always  stand  wide  open 
to  them.  A  young  Scotch  girl  was  lured  one  day  from  her  quiet  country 
home  to  London,  where  she  speedily  went  astray.  Day  after  day,  week 
after  week,  her  poor  wridowed  mother,  peered  up  and  dowrn  the  road,  hop- 
ing for  her  daughter's  return.  One  evening,  while  sitting  in  front  of  the 
hearth,  thinking  of  her  wayward  child,  she  heard  a  footfall  on  the  floor. 
Before  her  stood  her  repentant  daughter.  After  the  surprise,  confession 
and  forgiveness  were  over,  the  daughter  asked:  "How  came  it,  mother, 
that  at  this  late  and  lonely  hour  of  the  night  I  found  the  latch  of  the 
cottage  open?"  "The  latch  has  never  been  shut  day  or  night  since  you 
left  me,"  was  the  mother's  answer;  "I  feared  that  if  you  came  and  found 
it  shut,  you  might  turn  away  forever." 

Thus  honor  your  sons  and  your  daughters,  ye  parents,  rich  or  poor, 
and  ye  shall  find  that: 

"Aeque  pauperibus  prodest,  locupletibus  aeque  ; 
Et,  neglecta,  aeque  pueris  senibusque  nocebit." — Horace,  Up.  I.  25. 

"It  profits  poor  and  rich  alike. 

But,  neglected,  equally  it  hurts  young  and  old  " 

and  you  will  find  that  the  race  of  the  Gonerils  and  Regans  will  disappear, 
while  the  Cordelias  will  hold  sway  in  every  home;  that  peace  and  happi- 
ness will  rule  your  households  and  add  many  a  happy  day  to  your  lives; 
that  as  the  hearts  of  the  parents  are  turned  to  their  children,  those  of  the 
children  turn  to  their  parents,  that  children  will  no  longer  suffer  for  their 
parents,  nor  parents  for  their  children,  that  there  will  be  no  more  Byrons 
to  lament  that 

.  .  "Untaught  in  youth  my  heart  to  tame 
My  springs  of  life  were  poisoned  " 

but  no  end  of  Popes  to  exclaim:  "My  parents  never  cost  me  a  blush,  and 
their  son  never  cost  them  a  tear." 

ERRATA  :— Change  in  preceding  lecture  (No.  21)  the  word  debtor,  in  the  couplet  on 
page  9,  to  the  word  doctor;  and  the  word  not,  on  the  third  from  the  last  line  of  the  same 
page,  to  but;  and  the  word  less,  on  the  eighth  from  the  first  line  on  page  10,  to  loss. 


Slay  the  Sin  but  not  the  Sinner. 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 

Philadelphia,  March  27th,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx.  13)  m-*n  jo 
(Ezek.  xxxiii.  n)  rrm  iD^no  yw~\  21  BO  ox  'D  ;'5jnn  mo3  "snx  ON 


"  Xot  for  the  death  of  the  sinner  pray 
But  for  the  death  of  sin." 

Talmud,  Berachoth,  10  a. 

Never  before  did  I  realize  how  much  of  a  world  in  miniature  a  mod- 
ern newspaper  is,  how  vividly  it  mirrors  mankind's  latest  joy  and  sorrow, 
gain  and  loss,  progress  and  regress,  humanity  and  bar- 
barity, as  I  did  a  few  days  ago,  while  perusing  one  of  our  £.££itinful  C°n" 
morning  papers.  Conspicuous  on  the  front  page  there 
were  two  columns,  side  by  side,  each  headed  by  glaring  headlines;  the 
one  attracting  the  reader's  attention  to  a  rare  virtue,  —  the  other  to  a 
barbarity  most  horrible  ;  the  one  telling  of  man's  love  for  his  fellow-man, 
—  the  other  of  his  cruel  hatred;  the  one  speaking  of  noble  efforts  and 
sacrifices  to  save  human  life,  —  the  other  narrating  in  sickening  detail  the 
story  of  a  brutal  strangulation  of  a  human  being  ;  the  one  carrying  us  to 
the  sea-port  town  Libau  in  Russia,  and  making  us  eye-witnesses  of  the 
landing  of  the  steamer  Indiana,  that  had  left  our  port  a  fortnight  before, 
and  of  the  unloading  of  the  provisions  our  people  sent  to  the  famine- 
stricken  districts,  and  of  the  great  rejoicing  over  American  generosity,  — 
the  other  conveying  us  to  the  capital  of  Austria,  into  a  prison-court,  to 
witness  a  scene,  which,  in  bold,  attractive  type,  it  describes  as  follows  : 
"Schneider  Strangled."—  "A  Silken  Loop  Attached  To  A  Stake  Used."— 
"His  Face  Covered  By  The  Executioner's  Hands."  —  "Assistants  Grasp 
His  Arms  And  Legs  And  Pull  Downward."  —  "Death  Results  In  Four 
Minutes."  —  "A  Sight  Long  To  Be  Remembered  By  The  Spectators." 

But  for  the  fact  that  both  of  these  conspicuously  recorded  events  bore 
the  same  date,  we  could  not  but  have  believed  that  whole  ages  lay  between 
the  two,  that  the  one  was  the  latest  product  of  modern 
civilization,  the  other  a  tale  of  Dark-Age  cruelty,  so  beau- 
tiful,  so  noble,  so  divine,  is  the  one,  and  so  horrible,  so 
inhuman,  so  fiendish,  is  the  other.  There  is  yet  another  reason,  besides 
the  date,  that  would  have  prevented  our  locating  the  Viennese  strangu- 
lation in  the  Barbarous  Ages,  and  that  is  the  make-up  of  the  executioner. 
His  was  not  the  conventional  uniform  of  the  hangman  of  by-gone  ages,  — 
no  fire-red  costume,  no  black  mask.  He  was  rigged  out  in  the  latest 


style  of  the  fashion-plate,  he  wore,  ' '  a  high  silk  hat,  fine  clothing,  and 
kid  gloves,"  while  the  loop  he  u*d  was  of  silken  fabric.  What  refine- 
ment of  cruelty  !  A  silken  loop  around  the  victim's  throat ;  the  kid- 
gloved  hand  of  a  stylishly  dressed  gentleman  firmly  holding  mouth  and 
nostrils  shut,  while  '  two  horse-slaughterers  grasp  the  hanging  man  by 
his  arms  and  legs,  and  pull  downward  with  all  their  strength. '  Such  the 
mode  of  judicially  strangling  the  life  out  of  a  condemned  human  being, 
in  the  presence  of  his  judges,  and  of  high  officials  of  the  realm,  in  the 
capital  of  Austria,  in  the  year  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Ninety  Two! — 

An  account  so  revolting,  alongside  a  column  portraying  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  traits  of  human  nature,  furnishes  a  striking  illustration  of 

how  the  divine  and  the  brutish  still  contend  for  suprem- 
Juve vrithhius  ac^  within  modern  society,  how  readily  the  one  may  gain 

ascendancy  over  the  other,  how  a  heart-rending  account 
of  human  suffering  will  arouse  a  whole  people  to  active  and  helpful  sym- 
pathy, while  the  perpetration  of  a  heinous  outrage  will  inflame  our  pas- 
sions into  an  inhuman  thirst  for  revenge.  And,  moreover,  it  dispels  the 
fond  hope  that  we  had  begun  to  cherish,  after  the  abolition  of  Capital 
Punishment  in  a  few  of  the  foreign  countries,  and  in  four  of  our  own  States,. , 
and  after  the  introduction  in  our  neighboring  state  of  electrocution  as  a 
mode  of  execution,  that  the  days  of  Capital  Punishment  were  numbered, 
that  mankind  had  sufficiently  advanced  in  its  humanities  to  punish  crime 
in  a  less  revolting  though  in  a  no  less  efficient  manner.  With  the  mem- 
ories of  the  New  Orleans  and  Memphis  murderous  mobs,  of  the  horrible 
burning  at  the  stake  of  a  human  being — a  woman's  hand  lighting  the 
pyre — recently  enacted  in  the  State  of  Arkansas,  of  the  recent  Viennese 
barbarous  strangulation,  fresh  in  our  minds,  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  the 
baser  human  passions  have  been  softened,  that  we  are  less  cruel  than 
were  our  ancestors  a  decade  of  centuries  ago,  or  than  are  the  savages  of 
the  present  day. 

It  is  true,  we  no  longer  resort  to  those  appalling  measures,  which 
former  ages  adopted  for  the  punishment  of  the  highest  crimes.     We  have 

no  such  torture-chambers  as  the  Dark-  and  Middle-Ages 
hfby-gcme'days  boasted  of.  We  have  no  such  soul-harrowing  cpntrivan- 

ces  as  European  Museums  still  exhibit,  and  that  once 
were  in  active  and  in  frequent  operation.  We  no  longer  nail  criminals  to- 
the  cross,  or  suspend  them  on  breast-  or  shoulder-piercing  spikes,  on 
which  they  endure  nameless  tortures,  are  assailed  by  birds  of  prey  and 
insects,  burnt  by  the  sun,  maddened  by  hunger  and  thirst,  till  death 
comes  to  their  relief.  We  no  longer  roast  them  over  a  slow  fire,  or  im- 
mure them  alive.  We  do  not  throw  them  as  food  to  ferocious  beasts> 
neither  do  we  crush  them  under  the  feet  of  angered  elephants.  We  no- 
longer  strap  them  down,  drill  holes  into  their  bodies  into  which  lighted 
tapers  are  set,  which,  burning  lower  and  lower  into  the  flesh,  "illumi- 
nate" them  into  a  most  agonizing  death.  We  no  longer  pour  molten  lead 
into  their  throats,  nor  hurl  them  into  seething  caldrons.  We  no  longer 
tear  them  asunder  on  the  public  squares  by  means  of  spirited  animals. 


hitched  to  each  limb,  nor  do  we  break  their  every  joint  and  limb  on  the 
wheel ;  nor  do  we  resort  to  any  of  those  other  monstrous  cruelties  too 
ghastly  and  too  frightful  to  mention.  True  as  this  is  —and  God  be  thanked 
that  it  is — when,  however,  we  contrast  man  as  he  is  to-day  softened  by 
more  peaceful  environment  and  greater  ease  and  culture,  with  man  of 
former  times  hardened  by  constant  wars  and  bloodsheds  and  privations 
and  struggles,  it  is  a  question  to  my  mind  whether  the  former  cruel  modes 
of  inflicting  Capital  Punishment  were  as  harrowing  to  the  culprit  and  to 
the  public,  as  are  our  more  refined  neck-breaking  trap-floors,  or  electric 
currents,  or  silken  loops  adjusted  by  kid-gloved  and  fashionably  attired 
gentlemen-hangmen. 

I  know  the  thought  that  now  is  foremost  in  the  minds  of  many. 
They,  too,  object  to  the  Viennese  strangulation,  but  for  far  different 
reasons.  It  is  its  leniency  that  they  find  fault  with.  , 

Instead  of  kid  gloves  they  would  have  handled  him  with    account  of  enor- 
thorn-spiked  cestUs,   and  in  place  of  silken  loop  they    toity  of  crime- 
would  have  used  an  iron  chain.     Upon  the  execution  of  that  monster,  who 
heartlessly  decoyed,  and  mercilessly  strangled  to  death,  innocent  and 
confiding  young  women,  they  would  have  piled  cruelty  upon  cruelty,  and 
suffering  upon  suffering,  till  their  death  penalty  would  have  equaled,  or 
eclipsed,  the  most  cruel  method  of  former  ages. 

And  why  would  they  use  such  cruel  measures  ?  Is  it  to  bring  the 
criminal's  victims  back  to  life?  Were  all  the  sufferings  of  all  the  ima- 
gined hells  to  be  visited  upon  the  murderer,  they  would 

.  ,,,.  Turns  capital 

not  succeed  in  restoring  the  murdered  unto  life.     Or  has    punishment  into 

he  more  than  one  life  that  human  power  can  slay  ?  If  he  revenSe- 
has,  human  knowledge  has  not  yet  discovered  it.  Is  it  to  rid  society  of 
his  presence,  and  of  his  power  of  doing  evil  ?  Society  will  not  be  any 
the  better  protected  from  him  when  he  suffers  a  protracted  and  a  cruel 
execution,  as  when  he  meets  with  an  instantaneous  and  a  painless  death. 
Does  not  such  desire  for  cruel  death  penalties  arise  rather  from  a  spirit  of 
revenge  than  from  a  love  of  justice?  Does  not  the  fact  of  a  detailed 
account  of  a  horrible  execution  being  wired  across  continents  and  oceans, 
to  peoples  in  no  direct  way  effected  by  the  death  of  the  murderer  and  his 
murdered  victims,  and  of  being  conspicuously  published  in  the  leading 
journals  of  the  world,  does  not  the  prominence  given  to  all  executions, 
show  only  too  plainly  how  much  of  the  brute  there  is  still  within  us,  what 
fascinations  sensational  accounts  of  murders  and  butcheries,  whether  law- 
ful or  unlawful,  still  have  for  us,  and  how  profitable  newspapers  find  it  to 
cater  to  such  brutish  cravings  ? 

"Not  at  all!"   "Not  at  all!"  some  of  you  will  say.     The  desire  to 
see  the  murderer  cruelly  executed  does  not  at  all  arise  from  a  spirit  of 
revenge,  nor  from  brutish  instincts.     It  emanates  from 
one  of  the  noblest  sentiments  of  the  human  heart.     It  has   tobe^deterrenL 
for  its  object  the  saving  of  human  life.     The  guilty  shall 
die  a  shameful  death  that  the  innocent  may  live.     The  whole  world's 


attention  shall  be  drawn  to  the  execution  of  a  murderer,  that  other  would- 
be-murderers  may  be  deterred  from  following  his  example,  and  from 
suffering  a  similar  miserable  and  painful  death. 

If  this  be  the  reason  why  so  much  publicity  is  given  to  executions, 

if  their  shocking  brutalities  are  intended  to  strike  terror  into  the  human 

soul,  and  to  paralyze  every  hand  lifted  with  murderous 

If  deterrent,  why     .  *    . 

painless  death  intent  against  a  human  being,  then  the  introduction  of 
methods  that  shall  rob  the  execution  of  its  shame  and 
pain  and  publicity,  defeats  that  purpose.  If  the  condemned  murderer 
shall  suffer  an  instantaneous  and  painless  death,  with  as  little  knowledge 
of  it  as  possible  outside  the  prison-gates,  what  purpose  does  his  death  sub- 
serve ?  It  is  of  no  benefit  to  the  murderer  nor  to  those  he  murdered.  It 
exercises  no  deterrent  influence.  It  can  only  gratify  a  thirst  for  revenge. 
It  cannot  be  for  the  purpose  of  self-protection,  for,  surely,  so  powerful  a 
State  as  ours,  for  instance,  could  protect  itself  against  its  few  murderers, 
by  securely  confining  them  behind  bars  and  bolts,  without  laying  violent 
hands  on  their  life.  If  it  be  ^ue,  that  brutal  executions  exercise  a  deter- 
rent influence  on  others,  then  every  State,  that  has  the  life  and  well- 
being  of  its  subjects  truly  at  heart,  is  duty-bound  to  abolish  its  swift  and 
painless  and  secluded  death-penalty,  to  enact  the  most  cruel  methods  of 
by-gone  ages,  and  to  hail  him  as  the  greatest  benefactor  of  human  kind, 
who  contrives  yet  more  soul-harrowing  and  blood-curdling  methods  than 
have  ever  been  known  before. 

But  facts  and  experiences  do  not  seem  to  confirm  the  claims  that  have 
been  set  up  for  the  deterrent  influence  of  cruel  executions  or  of  any  other 
kind  of  Capital  Punishment.     If  anything,  they  prove 
*^e  contrary,  that  Capital  Punishment  rather  encourages 


Penalty  not  a         than  checks  crime,  and  for  reasons  that  seem  quite  clear. 

The  criminal  classes  and  those  easiest  tempted  to  crime 
are,  as  a  rule,  composed  of  people,  who  are  either  mentally  deficient,  or 
weak  in  will-power,  or  who  have  perverted  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  or 
who  are  inordinately  vain  or  ambitious  or  sensational.  The  graphic 
accounts  of  sensational  murder  trials  easily  excite  them.  The  notoriety  of 
the  tried  and  condemned  criminal  inflames  their  vanity.  The  detailed 
reports  that  are  spread  broadcast  of  the  conduct  of  the  condemned  during 
his  last  days  and  last  hours,  the  gushing  sentimentalities  that  are  lavished 
upon  him,  the  sympathies  which  his  approaching  fate  arouse,  the  pictorial 
illustrations  of  the  final  scene  on  the  scaffold,  appeal  to  their  baser  passions, 
quicken  and  strengthen  the  brute  instincts,  arouse  a  burning  thirst  for 
similar  notoriety,  which  often  is  not  quenched  till  they  become  heroes  of 
tragedies  of  their  own. 

It  is  an  old  experience  in  police-circles,  that  sensational  murder  trials 
and   much  talked  of  executions,  often  even  when  only  enacted  in  the 

latest  sensational  novel  or  drama,  are  generally  followed 
^rinfe  tempter  to  by  a  large  retinue  of  imitators.  Jack  the  Ripper  has 

found  imitators  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  It  is  safe  to 
assert,  that  were  sensational  reports  of  murders  withheld  from  the  public 


press,  were  murder-trials  restricted  to  the  court-rooms,  where  they  prop- 
erly belong,  and  access  to  them  granted  only  to  such  who  have  real  busi- 
ness there,  were  less  inflammatory  reports  published  of  executions,  or  far 
better  still,  were  Capital  Punishment  entirely  abolished,  and  its  place 
taken  by  the  less  heroic  and  less  sympathy- and  sentimentality-arousing 
punishment  of  imprisonment  for  life,  or  for  such  a  time  till  the  criminal 
is  wholly  cured  of  his  criminal  tendencies,  a  strong  tempter  to  crime 
would  be  removed  from  the  weak-minded  and  weak-willed,  and  within  a 
short  time  we  would  perceive  an  appreciable  diminution  of  crime. 

This  is  not  a  theorist's  supposition;  it  is  a  fact  attested  by  the  penal 
experiences  of  civilized  lands,  and  emphasized  by  the  greatest  alienists  of 

the  world.     There  are  statistics  to  prove  that  every  addi- 

• |          ,  ,  ,      Where  most  cruel 

tion  of  torture  to  execution  was  followed  by  a  correspond-    there  murder 

ing  increase  of  criminals  condemned  to  suffer  the  death  r  requent. 
penalty,  and  that  frequently  it  was  but  necessary  to  relax  the  rigor  in  the 
torture-chamber  or  on  the  scaffold  to  check  epidemics  of  crime.  There 
are  facts  and  figures  enough  to  prove,  that  there  are  persons  that  are  most 
tempted  to  crime  when  rigorous  penalties  are  inflicted  for  it,  and  that 
extreme  tortures  seem  to  exercise  the  same  irresistible  fascination  upon 
them  that  snakes  exercise  upon  birds,  which,  once  under  the  charm  of  the 
serpentine  eye,  can  no  more  away  from  it,  but  must  rush  into  the  jaws  of 
death.  We  need  but  take  a  peep  into  the  penal  history  of  England  to 
assure  ourselves,  that  when  the  death  penalty  is  frequently  inflicted,  and 
for  paltry  offenses,  executions  are  carried  on  by  the  wholesale,  and  hangmen 
have  a  busy  time  of  it.  When  the  gallows  were  used  as  punishment  for 
offenses  such  as  cutting  down  a  fruit  tree,  associating  with  gypsies,  lead- 
ing the  life  of  a  vagrant,  stealing  a  handkerchief  above  the  value  of  a 
twelve-pence,  when  about  a  century  ago  a  child  of  twelve  could  be  exe- 
cuted for  rioting,  and  less  than  half  a  century  ago  a  child  of  nine  could 
be  hung  for  stealing  paint  of  the  value  of  two  pence-half  penny,  we  can- 
not be  surprised  at  the  statement  of  a  writer  in  Elizabeth's  reign  that  "  in 
Henry  VIII's  time  seventy-two  thousand  thieves  and  vagabonds  were 
hanged,"  nor  can  we  wonder  that  the  distinguished  legal  authority,  Sir 
William  Blackstone,  should  have  called  the  attention  of  people  and  gov- 
ernment to  the  fact,  that  the  frequency  of  the  death  penalty  "  instead  of 
diminishing,  increases  the  number  of  offenders."*  So  much  for  the  deter- 
rent influence  of  Capital  Punishment ! 

Almost  on  the  threshold  of  the  Twentieth  Century,  it  is  the  highest 
time  that  we  learn  the  lesson  these  facts  and  figures  and  statistics  teach. 
As  long  as  we  continue  judicial  executions,  we  popularize 
unlawful  murder.     As  long  as  we  keep  the  spectacle  of  A  tempLvnchers 
putting  a  human  being  to  death  conspicuously  before  the 
eyes  of  criminally-inclined,  weak-minded,  weak-willed,  perverted-notioned 
people  we  but  tempt  them  to  rival  their  teachers.     As  long  as  we  arrogate 
unto  ourselves  the  right  of  punishing  certain  crimes  with  death,  we  en- 
courage others  to  do  the  same  for  what  they  deem  crime,   without  the 

*Green's  :  Crime,  Art.  Ill,  Chap,  v  ;  Kllis':  "  The  Criminal,"  Chap.  VI. 


preliminaries  and  technicalities  ©f  the  Law.  If  we  set  the  example  of 
stringing  up  a  fellow  for  taking  the  life  of  a  fellow-being,  we  must  not  be 
surprised  that  "Judge  Lynch"  should  consider  himself  equally  entitled 
to  exercise  the  same  right  for  equal  and  even  for  less  serious  offenses. 
Often  even  he  has  more  justice  on  his  side  than  we  have.  His  circuit  lies, 
as  a  rule,  in  uncultured  districts,  or  in  thinly  populated  regions,  that  are 
poorly  provided  with  prisons  and  courts.  We,  however,  have  all  the  pro- 
tection we  need.  We  have  safe  and  well-guarded  prisons.  We  have  just 
courts.  We  have  powerful  means  at  our  command  for  preventing  the 
criminal  from  again  endangering  the  life  of  a  fellow-being.  Our  inflict- 
ing the  death-penalty,  therefore,  since  it  benefits  neither  the  murdered, 
nor  the  murderer,  nor  deters  others  from  crime,  has  simply  the  giatifica- 
tion  of  a  revengeful  spirit  for,  its  object,  and  we  have  little  reason  to  com- 
plain of  the  vindictiveness  of  lynchers,  when  they  but  do  in  an  undisguised 
manner  what  we  do  under  the  sanctimonious  cloak  of  Law,  and  when  they, 
for  the  most  part,  do  under  the  impulse  of  intense  excitement  and  blind- 
ing passion  what  we  do  in  all  calmness,  with  deliberation,  and  in  cold 
blood.  With  the  gallows  erected,  as  a  tempting  model  to  copy,  in  the 
penitentiaries  of  all  our  States,  excepting  four,  we  are  not  surprised  at  the 
following  figures  collected  by  the  Chicago  Tribune  : 

"  Six  years  of  United  States  murders  (1884-1889  inclusive). 


Murders. 

Legal  Executions. 

Iyynchings. 

884        ... 

3,377 

103 

219 

885     . 

.  1,808    . 

.108. 

181 

886        ... 

i,499 

.        -          83        .        . 

133 

887    .        •  '      • 

•    2,335     • 

.    79    . 

.    123 

888        .        .    .    . 
S8g     .        .    '     . 

2,184 

.        .          87        . 
.    98    . 

144 
•    I75 

' 

Total  of  6  years 

14,77° 

558 

975 

Hence,  of  nearly  15,000  known  murders  in  the  six  years,  less  than  four  percent,  were 
followed  by  legal  executions.  In  the  four  States  where  the  capital  penalty  is  abolished, 
conditions  are  stated  by  competent  authorities  to  be  more  satisfactory  than  elsewhere. 
The  lynchings  nearly  all  take  place  in  States  which  retain  the  gallows. 

Maine  abolished  capital  punishment  in  1876,  restored  it  in  1883,  and  again  abolished 
it  in  1887.  The  Warden  of  the  State  prison  (Mr.  S.  H.  Allen)  writes  (1890) :  "  I  think  it 
is  the  general  feeling  that  murders  are  no  more  frequent  now  than  when  the  death 
penalty  existed."  The  Warden  of  Rhode  Island  State  Prison  (Mr.  Nelson  Viall)  also 
writes  (1890)  :  I  do  not  believe  the  death  penalty  will  ever  be  restored  in  our  State,  or 
that  the  crime  of  murder  has  increased  in  consequence  of  the  change." 

And  for  the  sake  of  an  average  of  between  two  or  three  executions  in 
a  State,  a  year,  we  keep  up  what  some  one  has  epigramatically  described 

as  "  the  shameful  practice  of  hiring  for  a  guinea  anassas- 
urcler.  s^n  to  accomplish  a  sentence  which  the  judge  would  not 

have  the  courage  to  carry  out, ' '  and  indirectly  encourage, 
Heaven  only  knows !  how  much  of  unlawful  murder.  And  worse  still, 
who  can  tell  how  many  of  the  hundred  legal  executions,  that  disgrace  our 
land  each  year,  are  not  really  murders  ?  Without  at  all  entering  to-day 
into  the  question  of  the  mental  and  moral  responsibility  of  the  condemned, 
of  how  frequently  the  criminal  is  irresponsible  for  his  crime,  of  how 


frequently  his  crime  is  attributable  to  inherited  criminal  tendencies,  to- 
homicidal  monomania,  to  moral  alienation,  whose  presence  and  irresistible 
sway  elude  the  understanding  and  the  observation  of  judge  and  witness 
and  jury,  and  whose  crime  should  be  expunged  not  on  the  gallows  but 
'in  a  Penal-Hospital,  without  entering  this  morning  upon  this  phase  of  the 
question,  who  can  tell  of  the  awful  mistakes  that  are  not  infrequently 
made,  and  that  are  beyond  all  human  power  of  reparation  ?  Who  knows 
not  how  near  many  an  innocent  man  has  been  to  suffering  the  penalty  of 
death  on  the  gallows  for  a  crime  which  he  never  committed,  though  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  strongly  pointed  to  him,  and  which  penalty  he 
would  have  paid,  had  it  not  been  for  an  accidental  discovery  of  his  inno- 
cence just  in  the  nick  of  time  ?  Is  not  Mr.  Chalkley  Leconey's  case, 
across  the  Delaware,  a  year  or  so  ago,  still  fresh  in  our  memories  ?  How 
strongly  circumstantial  evidence  pointed  against  him,  and  how  near 
suffering  legal  murder  !  The  following  clipping  from  our  Public  Ledger, 
shortly  after  Mr.  I,econey's  acquittal,  conveys  as  triking  illustration  of 
how  easy  it  is  at  times  to  fasten  guilt  upon  innocent  persons,  and  to  make 
them  suffer  innocently  a  disgraceful  death: 

"In  the  same  paper  which  contained  the  announcement  of  the  acquittal  of  Chalkley 
Leconey  was  an  account  of  a  fatal  accident  which  had  just  occurred  in  Philadelphia. 
An  old  woman,  over  eighty  years  of  age,  was  badly  burned  by  her  clothing  taking  fire» 
The  only  person  in  the  house  was  her  son,  who  was  burned  seriously  in  trying  to  extin- 
guish the  flames.  She  was  taken  to  the  hospital,  and  he  was  arrested  on  suspicion. 

The  mother,  in  her  anguish,  had  moaned  out"  that  it  was  her  son's  fault.  She  after- 
wards explained  that  she  meant  he  was  not  so  prompt  as  he  should  have  been  in  putting 
out  the  flames.  He  was  asleep  on  a  settee  when  she  let  the  lighted  paper  fall  on  her 
dress,  and  was  probably  bewildered  by  the  fearful  sight  when  awakened.  Had  she  died 
without  explanation,  what  would  have  been  the  position  of  that  son  ?  Who  could  have 
declared  his  innocence  ?" 

And  from  Nebraska  there  recently  came  the  news  of  the  honorable  dis- 
charge of  Warren  Clough,  after  fourteen  years  imprisonment  for  the 
supposed  murder  of  his  brother,  and  released  through  the  dying  confes- 
sion of  the  real  murderer.  Warren's  brother  had  been  found  dead  in  his 
barn,  at  Stewart,  Neb.  and  all  the  money  the  brother  had  on  the  day 
before  was  in  Warren's  possession — rightly  in  payment  of  debts.  His- 
defence,  and  the  change  of  hanging,  to  which  he  was  sentenced,  to  im- 
prisonment for  life  cost  him  $  10,000.  His  wife  got  a  divorce,  and  married 
another  man,  while  he  was  unjustly  in  prison.  It  was  fortunate,  that  he 
had  money  enough  to  make  a  noble  fight  for  his  life,  else,  he  would  have 
suffered  innocently  an  ignoble  death  on  the  gallows,  and  no  after-confes- 
sion could  have  repaired  the  awful  wrong. 

But  only  the  fewest  have  money  enough  to  carry  on  s.uch  a  fight,  and 
for  the  want  of  it,  many  a  one  has  been  legally  murdered  for  some  other's- 
guilt,  according  to  Sir  James  Mackintosh's  declaration,  as  quoted  in  an 
editorial  in  the  New  York  Sun,  some  months  ago,  at  least  one  in  every 
three  years,  in  England,  and  how  many  in  this  country,  with  our  fond- 
ness of  convicting  on  circumstantial  evidence,  and  with  a  plentiful  supply 
of  disliked  foreigners  and  of  poor  and  ignorant  and  much-abused  negroes- 


to  be  made  scape-goats  of  for  other  men's  guilt,  God  alone  knows.  Capi- 
tal Punishment  continuing,  what  assurance  have  we  that  what  has  hap- 
pened to  others  may  not  happen  to  you  or  me  ?  Who  is  safe  from  being 
seized  at  any  moment,  and  brought  to  trial  under  the  charge  of  murder, 
by  reason  of  certain  accidental  coincidences  and  circumstances  that  seem 
suspiciously  to  point  against  us  ?  Who  is  safe  from  being  strung  up  with- 
out regard  to  professions  of  innocence,  especially  when  feelings  run  high, 
and  when  the  press,  as  it  so  frequently  does  now-a-days,  conducts  the 
trial,  and  pronounces  the  sentence,  before  yet  the  case  comes  into  court. 

Such  awful  mistakes  occurring,  we  are  not  surprised  that  thoughtful, 
jurors  should  hesitate  long,  and  tremble  before  the  consequences  of  their 
decision,  and  that  in  more  settled  and  refined  cominuni- 
asjm-or  serving'  ties  there  should  be  a  growing  disinclination  to  serving 
as  jurors  in  cases  involving  capital  punishment.  Nor 
can  we  be  surprised  that  mistakes  should  frequently  be  made  on  the  other 
side,  that  jurors,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  hanging  an  innocent  or  an 
irresponsible  man,  will  give  the  defendant  every  benefit  of  doubt,  and  set 
him  free,  perhaps  to  continue  his  depredations.  Many  a  criminal  has- 
thus  been  set  free,  who,  for  the  protection  of  society,  ought  to  have  been 
safely  locked  behind  prison  bars,  and  where  he  would  have  been,  had 
Capital  Punishment  been  abolished,  and  had  the  jury  had  the  right  of 
sentencing  him  for  an  indeterminate  number  of  years  of  imprisoment, 
securing  to  society  the  chance  of  correcting  its  error,  and  of  making  hon- 
orable amends,  if  subsequent  disclosures  proved  that  mistakes  were 
made. 

But,  with  our  present  only  alternative  of  death  or  freedom  for  the  man 
tried  for  murder,  and  with  a  steadily  growing  preference  for  granting 

freedom  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  legallv  murdering 
Thereby  the 
guilty  often  es-      an  innocent  person,  with  many  a  dangerous  criminal  set 

encouraged m°bS  ^ree  *n  consequence  of  rigorous  law  on  the  statute  book 
and  lax  administration  in  the  jury  box,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing that  people,  excited  into  uncontrollable  passion  by  what  seems  to 
them  an  unjust  verdict,  should  now  and  then  rise  in  a  mob,  take  ven- 
geance into  their  own  hands,  and  perpetrate  still  more  frightful  outrages, 
and  make  yet  more  grievous  mistakes  on  the  other  side.  With  the  awful 
death-penalty  on  our  statute-books,  with  gallows  in  our  prison-courts,  to 
justify  the  right  of  legal  murder,  and  with  flagrant  injustice  often  done 
to  society  from  fear  of  inflicting  so  revolting  and  so  irreparable  a  punish- 
ment, we  must  not  wonder  that  Mob-and  Lynch-Law  should  disgrace  our 
land,  and  that  we  should  number  annually  twice  as  many  lynchings  as 
legal  executions. 

Why  continue  this  danger  to  defendant  and  to  society?    Why  con- 
tinue tempting  the  feeble-minded,  the  weak-willed,  the  vain  and  sensa- 
tional and  criminally-inclined,  to  murder,  by  such  brutal 
notytheesiSnn'er>Ut   sPectac^es  °f  executions  as  was  recently  enacted  in  the 
Capital  of  Austria,  when  we  have  it  in  our  power  to  safely 
imprison  the  criminal  for  life,  or  for  an  indeterminate  number  of  years,. 


till  thoroughly  cured  or  reformed?  Why  continue  on  the  threshold  of 
the  Twentieth  Century  a  barbarous  and  a  vengeful  mode  of  punishment, 
which  experience,  past  and  present,  has  proven  to  be  no  deterrent  of  mur- 
der, and  to  be  followed  by  no  increase  of  crime  when  abolished,  as  we 
have  observed  in  those  of  our  own  States,  in  which  Capital  Punishment 
lias  been  abolished,  and  confirmed  abroad,  according  to  the  Sun's  edito- 
rial, as  follows:  "It  was  abolished  in  Holland  in  1870.  Between  1861  and 
1869  there  were  19  murders;  between  1871  and  1879  the  number  was  only 
17,  despite  an  increase  of  population.  In  Finland  there  has  been  no  exe- 
cution since  1824,  and  yet  murders  are  extremely  rare;  in  Belgium  none 
since  1863,  and  yet  the  crime  of  murder  has  decreased.  Portugal  and 
Roumania  have  abolished  Capital  Punishment  without  evil  results." 

Why  not  rather  devote  some  of  the  time  and  interest  and  expense, 
spent  on  the  slaying  of  a  sinner,  upon  slaying  sin  ?  Erase  the  right 
of  Legal  Murder  from  your  Statute  -  Books.  Tear  down  your  Gal- 
lows. Demolish  your  Electrocution-Chairs.  They  serve  not  Justice,  they 
but  serve  your  Revenge.  The  Sixth  Commandment:  "T/iou  shall  not 
murder ' '  applies  to  the  prison-courts  as  well  as  to  the  precincts  outside 
of  them.  Spend  no  more  time  on  the  best  mode  of  despatching  criminals 
into  the  other  world.  Spend  it  rather  on  devising  the  best  ways  and 
means  of  eradicating  crime.  Prevent  the  breeding  of  crime  or  of  crimi- 
nal insanity.  Break  up  your  moral  pest-houses.  Tear  down  your  White- 
chapel  districts,  and  scatter  the  pauper  and  criminal  vermin  that  infest 
them.  Suffer  not  the  aggregation  of  the  vagrant  and  the  unemployed,  or 
create  labor  for  them  to  prevent  starvation  from  forcing  them  to  crime. 
Reform  your  prison-disciplines.  Make  them  reformatory  instead  of  penal 
institutes.  Let  not  the  man  that  enters  a  thief  come  forth  a  murderer. 
Save  the  discharged  prisoner  from  falling  back  into  crime,  by  kindly 
caring  for  him  till  able  to  care  for  himself.  Cultivate  kindlier  sentiments 
among  the  lower  classes.  Lessen  the  misery  and  filth  that  surrounds 
them.  Let  not  the  saloon  and  the  dive  be  their  only  source  of  pleasure. 
Reserve  not  all  your  beautiful  Parks  and  Squares  and  Fountains  and  Drives 
and  Avenues  for  the  rich.  Think  of  your  alleys  before  you  think  of  your 
boulevards.  Take  a  personal  interest  in  the  sad  lot  of  the  poor.  Help 
them  to  find'  employment,  direct  them,  encourage  them,  elevate  them, 
.and  you  will  do  infinitely  more  towards  checking  crime  by  slaying  sin 
than  gallows  and  garrots  and  guillotines. have  done  by  slaying  the  sinner. 


The  Sanctity  of  the  Home. 


^I  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  April  jd,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx,  14) 

"  A  glance  of  heaven  to  see 
To  none  on  earth  is  given  ; 
And  yet  a  happy  family 
Is  but  an  earlier  heaven." 

The  Midi-ash*  relates  a  conversation  between  Rabbi  Jose  and  a  Roman 
matron,  in  which  he  maintained,  that :  marriages  were  predestined  in 
heaven,  and  she:  that  it  required  no  God  to  effect  marital 
unions,  that  almost  any  one  could  turn  man  and  woman  j^Yea^n  m 
into  husband  and  wife.  She  proposed  to  give  him  a  prac- 
tical illustration  of  the  truth  of  what  she  claimed.  After  his  departure, 
she  summoned  her  unmarried  male  and  female  slaves;  placed  the  different 
sexes  in  rows,  opposite  each  other,  and  then  paired  them  off,  at  haphazard, 
just  as  they  chanced  to  face  each  other.  But,  in  a  little  while,  the  newly 
married  couples  appeared,  one  after  the  other,  before  her,  with  blackened 
eyes,  and  bleeding  faces,  and  broken  limbs,  complaining  bitterly  of  the 
mates  she  had  given  them,  and  begging  to  be  freed  from  their  insufferable 
yoke.  She  was  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  Rabbi's  words,  and  hesitated 
not  to  confess  it  to  him,  when  again  they  met,  the  Rabbi  supplementing 
his  former  remarks  with  the  saying,  that:  the  linking  in  happy  wedlock 
of  well-mated  people  is  the  work  of  God,  and  even  for  Him  as  great  a  task 
as  was  the  dividing  of  the  Red  Sea.f 

I  cannot  vouch  for  the  historic  truth  of  this  story,  but  I  am  strongly 
inclined  to  believe  the  moral  truth  which  it  purports  to  teach.     I  believe 
in  the  divineness  of  the  institution  of  marriage.     I  see  in 
that  strange,  mysterious,  irresistible  fascination,  which  one   vtne'instituticm 
man  and  one  woman  have  for  each  other,  and  for  each 
other  only,  out  of  all  the  human  species,  I  see  in  the  violent  and  inex- 
tinguishable flames,  that  love  suddenly  kindles  within  the  heart  and  brain 
of  one  man  and  one  woman,  and  that  burn  and  burn,  and  rage,  and  reach 
out  towards  each  other  until,  overcoming  all  difficulties  and  all  obstacles, 
they  exultingly  meet  and  unite,  I  see  in  the  passionate  longing  that  sud- 
denly springs  up  in  the  hearts  of  one  man  and  one  woman  for  each  other's 
constant  companionship,  who  before  were  proof  against  all  of  Cupid's  arts 


*A  compendium  of  ancient  Jewish  Homilies,  Parables  and  Legends. 
tMidrash  Rab.,  Gen.  68. 


and  darts,  often  after  but  their  first  meeting,  often  before  yet  a  word  has 
passed  between  them,  or  before  yet  they  know  their  names  or  stations, 
often  without  possessing  any  of  the  external  attractions  of  physical  beauty, 
of  fortune  or  fame,  I  see  in  all  this,  a  mystic,  supernatural  force,  coming 
from  on  high,  to  link  into  holy  and  happy  matrimony  the  one  man  and 
the  one  woman,  who  have  been  divinely  destined  for  each  other,  and  who 
cannot  be  kept  asunder,  or  enter  into  other  marital  alliances,  without 
violating  God's  decree,  without  ruining  their  own  lives'  happiness  and 
that  of  others. 

Who  knows  but  that  the  Hindoo  is  right  in  believing,  that:  the  man 
and  the  woman,  who  upon  their  first  meeting  suddenly  and  truly  and 

lastingly  fall  in  love  with  each  other,  have  met  before; 
Faithful  couples  .  . 

remarry  in  differ-    that  the  rapturous  feeling  within  them  at  the  first  sight 

of  each  other,  is  but  each  soul's  recognition  of  its  former 
mate,  that  the  two  had  lived  in  happy  wedlock  before,  that  in  the  slow 
evolution  of  the  species  the  same  two  souls  marry  and  die  in  one  state, 
and  reappear  on  earth,  and  marry  and  die  again  in  another,  higher  state, 
till  the  human  species  is  reached,  and  to  be  repeated  again  and  again  in 
the  various  higher  stages  of  life  that  shall  follow  this.  You  remember 
how  prettily  this  belief  is  told  by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold,  in  his  charming  Epic 
"The  Light  of  Asia,"  in  that  part  in  whichhe  speaks  of  the  meeting  and 
wooing  and  wedding  of  Prince  Buddha  and  fair  Yasodhara.  It  had  been 
decreed  in  high  council  that  the  king's  son,  Prince  Buddha,  should  be 
given  in  marriage  to  one  of  India's  daughters.  The  fairest  maidens  of 
the  realm  were  invited  to  compete  with  their  beauty  and  grace  and  skill 
for  the  prince's  hand  and  heart.  From  all  parts  Sakyas  beautiful  daugh- 
ters came,  each  wishing  in  her  heart  to  win  so  proud  a  prize.  One  after 
the  other  appeared  hopefully  and  tremblingly  before  his  throne  to  receive 
the  reward  of  her  skill  from  his  hand.  But  the  prize  for  which  each  flut- 
tering heart  yearned  the  most,  Siddartha's  love,  none  of  them  won. 

"  Thus  filed  they,  one  bright  maid  after  another, 
The  city's  flowers,  and  all  this  beauteous  march 
Was  ending  and  the  prizes  spent,  when  last 
Came  young  Yasodhara,  and  they  that  stood 
Nearest  Siddartha  saw  the  princely  boy 
Start,  as  the  radiant  girl  approached    .    .    . 


And  their  eyes  mixed,  and  from  the  look  sprang  love. 
Long  after — when  enlightenment  was  full  — 
Lord  Buddha — being  prayed  why  thus  his  heart 
Took  fire  at  first  glance  of  the  Sakya  girl, 
Answered,:  "  We  were  not  strangers  as  to  us 
And  all  it  seemed." 

Continuing,  he  tells  the  story  how,  long  ages  back,  they  had  met,  he  then 
a  tiger,  and  she  a  tigress  fair  and  brave,  and  how  they  had  mated  and 
lived  happily  together  until  death;  and  how,  in  ages  later,  they  had  met 
again,  he  then  a  hunter,  and  she  a  forest  girl,  to  whom  one  day,  as  um- 
pire in  a  race  between  swift-footed  girls,  as  prize  he 

"  Gave  a  tame  fawn  and  his  heart's  love  beside. 
And  in  the  wood  they  lived  many  glad  years, 


And  in  the  wood  they  undivided  died. 

Lo!  as  hid  seed  shoots  after  rainless  years. 

So  good  arid  evil,  pains  and  pleasures,  hates 

And  loves,  and  all  dead  deeds,  come  forth  again 

Bearing  bright  leaves  or  dark,  sweet  fruit  or  sour. 

Thus  I  was  he  and  she  Yasodhara; 

And  while  the  wheel  of  death  and  birth  turns  round. 

That  which  hath  been  must  be  between  us  two." 

Arnold's  "The  Light  of  Asia."    Bk.  II. 

Poetic  and  fascinating  is  this  Hindoo  belief  of  the  continuous  remar- 
riage in  the  succeeding  ages  of  faithful  and  devoted  pairs,  and  the  old 
Jewish  belief  that  marriages  are  made  in  heaven,  that  each 
has  his  mate  divinely  assigned.  He  that  holds  either  of  ^liSf  ful  P°eti° 
these  beliefs  has  at  his  side  a  powerful  aid  to  explain  the 
often  inexplicable,  mysterious  charm  that  one  particular  man  and  one 
particular  woman  exercise  upon  each  other,  their  passionate  love  at  first 
sight,  their  unconquerable  yearning  for  each  other's  inseparable  compan- 
ionship, their  unutterable  grief  when  parted,  their  boundless  joy  when 
united,  their  heroic  endurance  for  each  other's  sake  of  hardships,  trials, 
sufferings,  even  death  itself.  With  either  of  these  two  beliefs,  it  is  easy 
to  understand  how  it  happens,  that  of  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thous- 
ands of  men  and  women,  often  of  different  temperaments,  of  different 
training  and  culture,  of  different  tastes  and  ambitions,  that  annually  unite 
themselves  for  life,  such  vast  numbers  of  them  prove  happy  unions,  make 
well-mated  husbands  and  wives,  are  lovingly  faithful  and  helpfully 
devoted  to  each  other,  tread  hand  in  hand  and  heart  with  heart  their 
common  path  of  life,  hold  no  thought  apart,  divine  each  other's  wish  'ere 
yet  expressed,  study  each  others  best  interest,  regard  the  home  they  found 
as  their  sanctuar}-,  the  centre  of  their  world,  their  Paradise  on  earth, 
writhe  under  each  other's  agony,  rejoice  in  each  other's  triumph,  remain 
true  to  each  other  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  aye,  even  beyond  it. 

Even  if  these  beliefs  be  only  poetic  conceptions  of  foreign  lands  and 
ancient  times,  in  these  days  of  prosaic  opinions  of  the  marital  institu- 
tion, it  is  refreshing  to  go  back  to  times,  and  to  mingle 

A  pleasing 
with  people,  thafhave  not  yet  stripped  all  romance  and    change  from  the 

all  sanctity  from  the  sweetest  and  holiest  of  all  the  rela-  a'paihire  »riage 
tionships  of  life.  As  the  panting  and  weary  wanderer 
cherishes  the  reviving  draught  and  the  restful  nook,  as  the  sorrowing 
and  despairing  soul  cherishes  the  slightest  word  of  comfort  and  of  hope, 
as  the  mother's  soothing  words  calm  her  frightened  babe,  so  comforting 
and  encouraging  it  is  to  us  in  these  days  of  marriage-profanation  to  read 
or  hear  of  the  Hindoos'  or  Jews'  ennobling  belief  in  the  deathlessness  and 
divineness  of  the  marital  state.  Ever  since  it  has  become  fashionable 
almost  for  every  schoolboy  and  schoolgirl  to  ask,  and  to  discuss,  the  ques- 
tion: "Is  Marriage  a  Failure?"  ever  since  it  has  become  a  profitable 
journalistic  and  theatrical  feature  to  flaunt  in  the  public's  face  all  man- 
ners of  matrimonial  delinquencies,  ever  since  every  frivolous  and  con- 
temptuous fling  at  the  expense  of  marriage  passes  for  wit,  ever  since  the 


frequency  of  divorces  and  the  ease  wherewith  they  are  secured,  the  num- 
bers of  desertions,  and  «f  unhappy  and  ill-mated  pairs,  have  become 
topics  of  our  daily  conversations,  there  are  few  things  that  the  masses 
believe  with  firmer  faith  than  that  marriage,  far  from  being  a  predestined 
decree,  is  a  lottery,  that  men  and  women  marry  as  chance  happens  to 
throw  them  together,  somewhat  as  the  Roman  matron's  plan  in  the  Mid- 
rashic  story,  that  marriage,  far  from  being  a  divine  institution,  is,  as 
modern  realistic  writers  are  portraying  it,  almt>st  anything  but  a  holy 
relationship,  and,  according  to  Tolstoi,  even  contrary  to  the  will  of  God. 

Such  croakers  must  remind  us  of  that  simpleton,  who  could  not  see 
the  woods  for  all  the  trees,  or  of  that  fish  that  longed  to  have  a  look  of 
water  though  surrounded  by  it.  They  themselves  perhaps 
^daunhfiybratld"  live  in  happiest  wedlock.  They  see  themselves  surrounded 
by  happy  families,  whose  homes  are  sanctuaries  and  whose 
presiding  spirits  are  priests.  They  see  thousands  of  young  men  and 
young  women  meet,  look  deep  into  each  others  eyes,  deeper  still,  into 
each  others  hearts,  and  remain  sweetly  buried  there  for  ever.  They  hear 
their  fervent  vows  at  the  marriage-altar.  They  see  them  walk  peacefully 
and  helpfully  their  path  of  happy  wedded  life.  They  see  them  invite 
their  friends  on  the  anniversaries  of  their  wedding-day,  that  they  may 
celebrate  with  them  the  sweet  remembrance  of  the  day  that  blessed  them 
with  each  others  faithful  love  and  sincere  trust  and  constant  companion- 
ship. All  this  their  own  eyes  see  and  their  own  ears  hear  abundantly, 
but  because  they  know  of  the  comparatively  few  whose  married  life  is 
unhappy,  whose  love  is  not  faithful  and  whose  companionship  is  not  true, 
whose  matrimonial  bark  is  ill-fated  because  it  was  launched  ill-mated, 
who  waited  not  for  Love,  the  Divine  Messenger  froon  above,  to  unite  them 
with  the  one  their  reasoning  heart  would  have  recognized  intuitively  as 
the  divinely  destined,  but  permitted  sordid  interest,  base  convenience, 
self-seeking  matchmakers,  to  patch  up  a  compact,  and  to  wreck  their  lives, 
they  straightway  brand  the  whole  institution  of  marriage  as  frivolous,  as 
unholy,  and,  according  to  Tolstoi,  as  unprofitable,  as  deserving  immedi- 
ate abolition. 

Fancy  an  inhabitant  of  one  of  our  sister  planets  paying  us  a  visit  of 
but  a  few  hours  duration.  Fancy  him  spending  a  portion  of  that  time  in 
a  Dime  Museum,  another  portion  in  a  Hospital,  another 
by  th^afewj"dged  in  a  Saloon,  another  in  a  Police  Court,  another  in  White- 
chapel  district,  where  he  perceived  only  deformity,  dis- 
ease, drunkenness,  brutality,  misery,  filth.  Fancy  yourselves  reading  the 
report  he  gave  of  us  upon  his  return.  You  would  fling  it  aside  in  disgust, 
as  a  gross  slander  of  the  earth's  people.  You  would  denounce  him  either 
as  a  malicious  perverter  of  the  truth,  or  as  a  fool,  for  making  his  excep- 
tional observations  and  experiences  stand  for  the  universal  traits  of  all 
the  people  of  the  earth.  Such  is  the  course  pursued  by  many  of  our 
pessimistic  essayists  and  novelists.  They  happen  to  come  across  isolated 
cases  of  unhappy  marriages,  or  to  chance  into  a  Divorce-Court,  or  to  read 
in  sensational  papers  pitiable  stories  of  conjugal  infelicities,  or  to  witness 


-stage-representations  of  the  low  and  vulgar  reasons  for  which  people 
enter  into  marriage  and  step  out  of  it,  and  forgetting  that  it  is  the  excep- 
tion that  confronts  them,  that  newspapers  and  theatres  make  exceptions 
their  most  prominent  and  most  profitable  feature,  knowing  that  the  excep- 
tional, the  novel,  the  sensational,  have  a  strong  fascination  for  the  masses, 
that  to  deal  with  the  general  rule,  to  depict  faithful  husbands,  devoted 
wives,  happy  homes,  would  mean  financial  disaster,  for  almost  everybody 
can  see  that  at  home,  in  his  neighbor's  house,  in  the  society  in  which  he 
moves,  without  reading  about  it  in  the  newspapers,  without  the  trouble 
and  expense  to  see  it  on  the  stage,  forgetting  this,. they  treat  the  compara-  • 
tively  few  unhappy  marriages  as  if  they  were  the  general  rule. 

Count  Tolstoi  has  given  us  a  striking  illustration  of  such  perversion 
of  truth  in  a  recent  novel  of  his.  I  mention  him,  because  he  is  the  most 
honorable  of  his  school  of  writers.  He  writes  not  for 
sensation  or  for  profit.  He  is  in  earnest,  and  he  sincerely  rfage^advocated! 
believes  and  means  what  he  writes  and  says.  But,  to  be 
just,  as  well  as  charitable,  the  best  we  can  say  of  him  is  that  he  is  a  delu- 
ded old  man,  who  has  forgotten  the  romance  and  poetry  of  youth,  and 
the  charm  and  power  of  early  love.  He  is  like  that  simpleton  and  fish 
that  I  spoke  of  before.  He  himself  lives  in  happy  wedded  life.  He 
associates  with  friends  who  are  as  happily  married  as  he.  He  is  sur- 
rounded by  homes  in  which  peace  and  sanctity,  joy  and  harmony  have 
uninterrupted  sway.  But  he  also  knows  a  few  isolated  couples  of  which 
the  husbands  are  characterless,  and  the  wives  heartless,  and  whose  matri- 
monial bark  naturally  strand  on  the  shoals  of  sin  and  crime,  and  he  raises 
a  loud  hue  and  cry  against  the  baseness  of  the  marital  relation,  and  clamors 
for  its  abolition.  Behind  him  there  is  a  school  of  realistic  writers  and 
speakers  that  vociferously  echo  his  clamors.  And  their  din  and  noise 
fairly  drown  the  calm  and  truthful  and  dignified  stories  that  are  told  by 
the  world's  best  men  and  women,  of  the  blessings  of  marriage,  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  home,  of  its  ennobling  influence  on  the  individual  and 
society,  how  without  the  home  many  of  our  brightest  stars  would  never 
have  illumined  our  sphere,  and  many  of  our  greatest  blessings  would 
never  have  been  ours 

Mr.  Samuel  Smiles  has  collected  in  his  book  "Character"  a  number 
of  interesting  and  touching  letters  and  excerpts  from  autobiographies  of 
celebrated  men  and  women,  that  strongly  confirm  my 
position,  and  from  which,  with  your  permission,  I  shall    maritafblesSsing.s 
read  a  few  selections: 

"Many  external  circumstances  of  happiness,"  DeTocqueville  wrote,  "  have  been 
granted  to  me.     But  more  than  all,  I  have  to  thauk  Heaven  for  having  bestowed  on  me 

true  domestic  happiness,  the  first  of  human  blessings Of  all  the  blessings 

which  God  has  given  to  me,  the  greatest  of  all,  in  my  eyes,  is  to  have  lighted  on  Marie. 
You  cannot  imagine  what  she  is.  in  great  trials.  Usually  so  gentle,  she  then  becomes 
strong  and  energetic.  She  watches  me  without  my  knowing  it;  she  softens,  calms,  and 
strengthens  me  in  difficulties  which  disturb  me  but  leave  her  serene.  ...  I  cannot 
describe  to  you  the  happiness  yielded  in  the  long  run  by  the  habitual  society  of  a  woman 
in  whose  soul  all  that  is  good  in  your  own  is  reflected  naturally,  and  even  improved. 
When  I  say  or  do  a  thing  which  seems  to  me  to  be  perfectly  right,  I  read  immediately 
in  Marie's  countenance  an  expression  of  proud  satisfaction  which  elevates  me.  And  so, 


when  my  conscience  reproaches  me,  her  face  instantly  clouds  over.  Although  I  have 
great  power  over  her  mind,  I  see  with  pleasure  that  she  awes  me,  and  so  long  as  I  love 
Her  as  I  do  now,  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  never  allow  myself  to  tie  drawn  into  anything 
that  is  wrong." 

"  Man  longs  for  a  happiness  "  wrote  M.  Guizot,  whose  turbulent  life  was  sustained 
by  a  noble  wife,  "more  complete  and  more  tender  than  which  all  the  labors  and 
triumphs  of  active  exertion  and  public  importance  can  bestow.  What  I  know  to-day, 
at  the  end  of  my  race,  I  have  felt  when  it  began,  and  during  its  continuance.  Even  in 
the  midst  of  great  undertakings,  domestic  affections  form  the  basis  of  life;  and  the 
most  brilliant  career  has  only  superficial  and  incomplete  enjoyments,  if  a  stranger  to 
the  happy  ties  of  family  and  friendship." 

"  Twenty-four  years  experience  has  shown  me,"  wrote  Count  Zinzendorf  of  his 
wife,  "  that  just  the  helpmate  whom  I  have  is  the  only  one  that  could  suit  my  vocation. 
Who  else  could  have  so  carried  through  my  family  affairs  ? — Who  lived  so  spotlessly 
before  the  world  ?  .  .  .  Who  would,  like  she,  without  a  murmur  have  seen  her  hus- 
band encounter  such  dangers  by  land  and  sea  ? — who  undertaken  with  him,  and  sus- 
tained, such  astonishing  pilgrimages  ?  Who,  amidst  such  difficulties,  could  have  held 
up  her  head  and  supported  me?" 

Edmund  Burke  said  of  his  home:  "  Every  care  vanishes  the  moment  I  enter  under 
my  own  roof." 

John  Stuart  Mill  dedicated  his  treatise  "On  Liberty"  to  his  wife  in  these  touching 
words:  "  To  the  beloved  and  deplored  memory  of  her  who  was  the  inspirer,  and  in  part 
the  author,  of  all  that  is  best  in  my  writings — the  friend  and  wife,  whose  exalted  sense 
of  truth  and  right  was  my  strongest  incitement,  and  whose  approbation  was  my  chief 
reward,  I  dedicate  this  volume." 

IvUther,  speaking  of  his  wife  said:  '  I  would  not  exchange  my  poverty  with  her  for 
all  the  riches  of  Croesus  without  her.  .  .  .  The  utmost  blessing  that  God  can  confer 
on  a  man  is  the  possession  of  a  good  and  a  pious  wife  with  whom  he  may  live  in  peace 
and  tranquility." 

The  following  is  the  epitaph  Carlyle  inscribed  upon  the  tombstone  of  his  wife:  "  111 
her  bright  existence  she  had  more  sorrows  than  are  common,  but  also  a  soft  amiability, 
a  capacity  of  discernment,  and  a  noble  loyalty  of  heart,  which  are  rare.  For  forty  years 
she  was  the  true  and  loving  helpmate  of  her  husband,  and  by  act  and  word  unweariedly 
forwarded  him  as  none  else  could  in  all  of  worthy  that  he  did  or  attempted."* 

Time  will  not  permit  me  to  continue  these  extracts,  or  to  dwell  upon 
the  encouragement  and  help  other  great  men  received  from  their  wives, 
such  as  the  brave  Dr.  Livingstone  during  his  travels  in  South  Africa,  or 
the  blind  naturalist  Huber,  or  the  philosopher  William  Hamilton,  or  the 
scientist  Faraday,  or  the  jurist  Grotius,  and  a  host  of  others.  Neither 
will  it  permit  me  to  quote  extracts  from  letters  and  biographies  of  women 
in  which  they  tell  of  their  domestic  happiness,  how  marriage  ennobled 
their  being,  gave  a  holy  mission  to  their  life,  how  a  babe's  soft  accents, 
a  husband's  tender  words  of  love  and  cheer,  allayed  every  fear,  banished 
every  evil  thought,  conjured  Paradise  from  heaven  into  their  heart,  and 
spread  its  glory  over  all  the  domain  over  which  they  held  sway. 

But  why  need  more  be  said,  why  need  anything  at  all  be  said,  in 
vindication  of  the  Marital  Institution,  or  in  opposition  to  the  senseless 

clamor  for  its  abolition?     They  who  would   abolish   it 
To  abolish  ,  ,  ,  , 

Marriage  must       permanently  would  first  have  to  undo  some  thousands 

Nature  first"3"      of   vears  of   civilization,   would  then   have  to  change 

human  nature,  would  then  have  to  annul  God's  decree, 

and  their  thwarted  efforts,  after  they  had  proceeded  but  a  little  way, 

would  soon   teach  them  of  the  folly  of  their  attempt.     Whether  we 


Smiles,  Character,  Chap.  XI. 


believe  or  not  that  the  two  souls,  that  mysteriously  and  irresistibly  feel 
themselves  drawn  towards  the  marriage  altar,  lived  united  in  happy 
wedlock  in  a  preceding  life,  or  that  the  two  hearts,  which  pure  love 
inseparably  welds  into  one,  were  divinely  predestined  for  each  other, 
this  we  must  believe  that  the  union  of  two  hearts  and  souls  of  opposite 
sex  in  Holy  Wedlock  is  a  Law  of  Nature,  a  Decree  of  God. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  believe  that  it  is  the  option  of  man  or  woman  to 
marry  or  not.  If  it  were,  few  men  and  women  would  voluntarily  take 
upon  themselves  the  cares  and  burdens,  the  trials  and  sufferings,  that 
marriage,  with  all  its  happiness,  involves.  A  few  may  rebel.  The  masses 
must  marry.  Nature  is  determined  that  the  human  species  shall  con- 
tinue, and  shall  gradually  develop  into  the  god-like,  and  for  that  end  it 
needs,  it  must  have,  and  it  will  have,  the  Institution  of  Marriage.  It 
knows  no  better  means  and  no  better  training-school  than  it.  In  that, 
sacred  relationship  the  root  of  civilization  lies  imbedded.  It  is  the  foun- 
tain from  which  all  our  virtues  spring.  It  is  there  where  husband  and 
wife  learn  the  lesson  of  mutual  dependence  and  mutual  helpfulness, 
consideration  for  each  other's  feelings,  respect  for  each  others  rights, 
endurance  of  hardships  and  trials  for  each  others  sake.  It  is  there  where 
the  altruistic  instincts  acquire  ascendancy  over  the  egoistic,  and  the 
passions  subject  themselves  to  the  control  of  reason.  There  parents 
learn  and  practice  the  lesson  of  self-sacrifice,  forethought,  industry, 
domesticity.  There  children  learn  and  practice  obedience,  gratitude, 
love,  reverence.  There  both  learn  to  give  to  society  that  support  and 
obedience  that  shall  enable  it  to  promote  the  highest  good  of  all,  and  to 
protect  the  sanctity  of  each  home.  That  a  relationship  from  which  so 
much  of  public  and  private  blessings  flow,  that  is  so  powerful  a  civilizer, 
that  holds  within  its  grasp  almost  the  only  blessings  that  make  life  worth 
living:  the  purest  love,  the  sincerest  appreciation,  the  most  devoted  com- 
panionship, the  most  heroic  self-sacrifice,  the  highest  happiness,  should 
not  bear  the  impress  of  divine  coinage  is  difficult  for  the  thoughtful  to 
believe.  To  be  asked  to  believe,  as  Count  Tolstoi  would  have  us,  that 
the  marital  relationship  degrades  the  human  being  into  a  sensuous  beast, 
and  should,  therefore,  be  abolished,  is  an  insult  to  those  blessed  beings 
whom  we  name  parents,  children,  husband,  wife,  is  an  insult  to  that 
sacred  home  that  was  our  first  school  of  love,  of  virtue,  our  first  and 
sweetest  fount  of  happiness. 

With  some  of  you,  who  have  observed  some  phases  of  the  marital 
state  in  the  upper  and  in  the  lower  strata  of  society,  the  sophistry  of  the 

realistic  school  of  writers  may  have  considerable  weight. 

,.  ,,  c   ,.    .  .  .  .      Abuse  110  argu- 

L  liable  to  discover  the  stamp  of  divine  coinage  in  marn-    meat  of  useless- 
ages  that  are  scandalized  by  corruptions  and  brutalities,    r 
you  may  be  of  the  opinion  that:  if  such  marriages  have  been  made  any- 
where outside  our  sphere,  it  must  have  been  in  the  lowest  hell,  if  such  a 
place  there  be.     But  let  me  caution  you  again :  Beware  of  false  generali- 
zations; make  not  of  the  exception  a  general  rule.     There  have  been 
theologians  many  whose  lives  have  been  unholy;  religion  nevertheless 


continued  a  holy  and  a  blessed  institution.  Children  have  been  brutal 
to  parents,  and  parents  cruel  to  children;  the  parental  and  filial  relation- 
ships have  nevertheless  continued  sweet  and  ennobling  to  this  day. 
Husbands  and  wives  may  be  false  to  each  other,  and  homes  may  be 
cursed;  marriage  will  nevertheless  continue  a  Divine  Institution,  and 
homes  bits  of  heaven  strewn  all  over  our  earth.  Where  such  unhappy 
couples  you  see,  remember  that  God  never  was  their  match-maker, 
neither  was  their  marriage  contract  signed  in  Heaven.  Cupid  never 
aimed  his  dart  of  love  at  them;  it  was  the  demon  of  discord  who  shot 
his  arrow,  barbed  with  unholy  desires,  into  their  hearts,  and  poisoned 
them  forever. 

There  are  those,  who  would  not  wait  for  their  God-sent  mate,  whose 
coming,  their  hearts,  if  pure,  _  would  unerringly  have  divined,  and  they 
married  in  haste  only  to  repent  in  leisure.     Th^re  are 
happynma°rrri"ges    those.  who  passed  by  the  one  that  Heaven  sent  to  bless, 
their  lives  and  to  sanctify  their  homes,  and  linked  them- 
selves to  greater  purse  or  to  greater  physical  beauty,  or  to  the  bubble  of 
a  greater  name,  only  to  find  the  greater  prove  the  worse. 

But  a  little  time  sufficed  to  convince  them  that  infatuation  is  not  love,, 
and  that  calculating  shrewdness  does  not  secure  marital  bliss. 

Wealth  may  have  filled  their  houses  with  elegance,  and  prospered, 
them  in  a  worldly  way.  But  it  starved  their  hearts  and  left  their  mansions 
poor  in  that  domestic  happiness  that  makes  the  humblest  cottage  rich. 
It  afforded  abundant  idleness,  and  ample  means  for  gratifying  every  wish 
within  reach,  and  the  idler  their  hands  the  busier  their  feet  in  running, 
and  the  more  plenteous  their  means  to  gratify  cravings,  the  greater 
their  indulgences  and  excesses,  their  revels  and  riots,  their  forgetfulness 
of  marital  duties  and  marital  vows. 

Beauty  may  have  exercised  a  powerful  attraction,  and  aroused  admi- 
ration everywhere.  But  it  turned  their  heads,  and  made  them  slaves  to. 
vanity  and  flattery,  made  them  sacrifice  modesty  to  display,  and  domes- 
ticity to  public  exhibition,  encouraged  rivalries,  awakened  jealousies, 
aroused  suspicions,  and— extinguished  the  flame  that  once  burnt  within 
them  and  for  each  other,  and  darkened  the  home  forever. 

Disparity  in  station,  in  breeding,  in  disposition,  may  have  lent 
piquancy  at  first,  but  the  novelty  wore  off,  and  they  found,  to  their  infinite 
grief  that  they  were  married  but  not  mated.  Companionship  between1 
them  became  formal.  Home  became  intolerable  to  them.  They  sought 
elsewhere  the  pleasures  and  diversions  they  could,  not  find  at  home. 
Disrespect  and  hatred  lodged  themselves  within  their  hearts,  and  strife 
and  cruelty  within  the  home.  Peace  and  happiness  took  wing,  and  left 
broken  hearts  and  desecrated  homes  behind. 

But  they  that  embark  on  the  matrimonial  sea  with  a  commission  from 

on  high  encounter  no  such  dangers.     With  flying  colors,  and  amidst 

cheers  and  blessings,  they  sail  fearlessly  forth,  with  goal 

properly  fitted        clearly  fixed,  with  helm  firm  in  hand,  with  love-filled 

matrimomal       .    sa-js  to  Spee(j  them  on,  with  compass  in  their  hearts  so 

delicately  poised  as  to  indicate  the.  slightest  deviation. 


from  their  path,  and  to  set  them  instantly  aright.  The  winds  may  howl, 
the  waves  may  lash,  with  experience-attested  charts  before  them,  with 
watchful  eyes  and  with  courageous  hand  to  guide,  their  well-constructed 
bark  fears  not  those  shoals  and  rocks  on  which  many  an  ill-guided  craft 
has  stranded.  To  the  last  captain  and  mate  remain  conscious  of  the 
sacrifices  each  has  made  for  the  other,  in  undertaking  together  the 
hazardous  journey  of  wedded  life,  and  of  the  responsibilities  they  owe  to 
that  little  crew  they,  one  by  one,  take  aboard.  To  the  last  each  shares 
the  others  cares,  each  strives  to  lessen  the  others  burden  and  to  increase 
the  others  joys.  To  the  last  there  is  not  a  moment's  shrinking  from  duty 
or  relaxation  of  watchfulness.  To  the  last  both  bestow  the  utmost  care 
and  attention  upon  their  little  crew,  that  they,  in  their  turn,  may  one 
day  safely  guide  noble  craft's  on  life's  varied  seas.  On  whatever  bark 
such  captain,  mate,  and  crew  you  see,  in  whatever  home  such  husband, 
wife,  and  children  you  find: 

"If  there  is  happiness  below, 
In  such  a  home  she's  shrined; 
The  human  heart  can  never  know 
Enjoyment  more  refined, 
Than  where  the  sacred  band  is  twined 
Of  filial  and  parental  ties, — 
That  tender  union  all  combined 
Of  Nature's  holiest  sympathies." 

— Fitzarthur. 


The  Noblest  Title:  An  " Honest  Man.' 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  April  wlh,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx.  15.) 
(Deut.  xxvii.  17.)  in;'l   Vl^J   J 

(Prov.  xi.  26.)  DIN"?   irop'   "O  J'JO 
(Psalms  cxvi.  n.)  373   D1XH   ^D   'I3H3   TOOK  'JX 

"  I  hope  I  shall  always  possess  firmness  enough  to  maintain,  what  I  consider  the 
most  enviable  of  all  titles,  the  character  of  an  "  Honest  Man." — George  Washington. 

When  on  such  a  collection  of  Biblical  citations  as  the  above  I  ponder, 
I  cannot  but  think  of  yet  another  Scriptural  passage,  the  one  the  wise 
Koheleth  wrote,  "The  thing  that  hath  been,  it  is  that 
which  shall  be;  and  that  which  is  done  is  that  which  shall  S£^g*y  °f 
be  done;  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  Is  there 
anything  whereof  it  may  be  said:  See,  this  is  new?"*  There  may  be 
little  comfort  in  such  an  array  of  crushing  testimony  against  the  honesty 
of  people  of  the  hoary  past,  yet  it  assures  us  that  dishonesty  is  not  an 
invention  of  our  own.  The  earliest  lawgiver  had  found  it  necessary  to  put 
the  thief  into  the  pillory  of  his  Ten  Commandments,  where  he  has  remained 
on  public  exhibition  to  this  day.  Robbing  the  poor,  amassing  lands  and 
properties  by  fraudulent  means,  "cornering"  markets,  were,  as  passages 
such  as  the  above  indicate,  familiar  crimes  in  ancient  times,  and  the 
Psalmist  of  old  went  so  far  as  to  declare  that  "  every  man  is  a  deceiver." 

Such  a  characterization  of  one  of  the  most  advanced  peoples  of  the 
past,  and  by  a  Biblical  writer,  would  speak  volumes  for  the  depravity  of 

human  nature,  were  it  not  for  the  writer's  own  implied 

.  *       ,      i  •     i    ,        i  •  .  Its  universality, 

confession  that  he  had  indulged  in  an  exaggeration,  that       , 

it  was  a  hasty  statement,  made  at  a  time  when  he  was  under  great  afflic- 
tion. This  confession  explains  a  similar  characterization  of  another  highly 
cultured  people,  found  in  the  writings  of  a  more  recent  distinguished 
author  in  Shakespeare's  Hamlet.  He  makes  the  hero  of  his  fancy  say 
that  "to  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes,  is  to  be  one  man  picked  out  of  ten 
thousand,"  and  to  give  to  his  friend's  news  that  "  the  world's  grown  hon- 
est," the  reply  "Then  is  doomsday  near."  Hamlet,  too,  was  laboring 
under  great  mental  affliction,  was  in  a  melancholy  mood,  knew  of  base 

*  Eccl.  i,  9-10. 


falsities  and  strongly  suspected  more,  and  so  it  was  quite  natural  for  one 
in  such  a  state  of  mind  to  indulge  in  gloomy  exaggerations,  to  believe  no 
more  than  one  man  out  of  ten  thousand  honest,  and  to  expect  the  dawn 
of  doomsday  sooner  than  seeing  the  world  growing  honest. 

But  not  so  easy  of  explanation  is  a  still  more  recent  statement  by 
another  distinguished  writer,  M.  Renan,  in  his  new  volume  of  "Souve- 
nirs. ' '     This  scholarly  author,  in  all  seriousness,  questions 
Honesty  held  to 

be  an  improfit-  whether  in  our  present  state  honesty  is  at  all  possible  or 
able  investment.  eyen  profitabie)  to  quote  his  own  words:  "  If  it  were  quite 
clear  that  virtue  was  a  paying  investment,  men  of  business  who  are  very 
sagacious,  would  long  since  have  noted  the  fact  and  become  virtuous. 
We  know  that  virtue  is  a  bad  investment  in  this  present  finite  state  of 
things,"*  or,  in  other  words,  that  honesty,  at  present,  is  not  the  best 
policy,  and  that  the  average  man,  to  further  his  own  interests,  must  be, 
or  chooses  to  be  dishonest.  I  had  scarcely  gotten  over  my  astonishment 
at  so  extravagant  a  statement  by  one,  whom  a  long  experience  as  author 
ought  to  have  taught  the  necessity  of  carefully  weighing  each  word  before 
giving  it  to  the  public,  when  my  attention  was  drawn  to  two  items  of 
news,  one  contained  in  a  recent  New  York  letter  to  the  Philadelphia 
Public  Ledger,  and  reading  as  follows. 

"The  average  man  is  dishonest,"  said  a  prominent  New  York  merchant  to  your 
correspondent  to-day.  The  merchant  is  a  member  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  and 
Hoard  of  Trade  and  the  President  of  another  commercial  association.  "  I  do  not  mean 
to  say,"  he  added,  "  that  every  man  is  dishonest,  far  from  it,  but  I  do  say  that  the 
average  man,  and  the  average  woman,  for  that  matter,  will  steal  if  he  or  she  gets  a 
chance,  and  I  base  this  opinion  upon  my  own  experience  and  observation  in  business. 
During  the  past  ten  years  thirty-six  of  my  own  employes  have  stolen  from  me  in 
amounts  ranging  from  a  few  dollars  to  $5000.  A  recent  case  was  that  of  a  $35  a  week 
clerk  who  defaulted  for  less  than  a  thousand  dollars.  Thirty-six  discovered  cases  of 
theft  among  my  own  employes  in  ten  years." 

and  the  other  stating  that  a  journal  a  short  time  ago  had  offered  a  school 
prize  for  the  best  essay  on  "Honesty."  Of  the  twenty-three  responses 
received  a  large  proportion  proved  to  have  been  stolen,  and  one,  a  poem, 
was  stolen  entire.  And  when  to  such  facts  as  these  we  add  the  late  dis- 
closures of  official  corruption  in  New  York,  in  Chicago,  in  our  own  City, 
and  elsewhere,  that  proved  the  guilt  of  dishone'sty  on  men  that  were 
trusted  and  honored  by  their  Communities,  that  held  distinguished  offices- 
in  religious  and  charitable  and  social  organizations,  when  we  think  of  the 
Canadian  Colony  of  United  States  ex-Aldermen,  ex-Bank  officials,  ex- 
Superintendents  of  Sunday  Schools,  ex-Deacons  of  Churches,  it  seems 
almost  impossible  not  to  agree  with  the  Psalmist  of  old  that  all  men  are 
deceivers,  or  with  Shakespeare  that  among  ten  thousand  men  possibly 
one  honest  man  may  be  found,  that  we  shall  sooner  behold  doomsday 
than  an  honest  world,  or  with  Renan  that  virtue  must  be  a  bad  invest- 
ment in  this  present  finite  state,  or  with  the  prominent  New  York  mer- 
chant that  the  average  man  will  steal  if  he  gets  a  chance. 

Were  this,  however,  to  be  our  final  verdict  we  would  be  guilty  our- 

*  Eel.  Magaz.  April,  '92,  page  500. 


selves  of  that  very  exaggeration  which  we  reprove  in  others.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly true  that  men  and  women  have  been  dishonest 
ever  since  we  have  any  knowledge  of  them.  Equally  notejishotrestnan 
true  it  is  that  fraud  and  robbery  still  flourish  before  our 
very  doors.  But  the  sweeping  charge  that  the  average  man  is  dishonest, 
or  would  be  so  if  he  had  a  chance,  is,  in  my  opinion,  not  true.  The  term 
"average  man  "  includes  the  whole  of  rational  and  responsible  society, 
and  I  have  too  firm  a  faith  in  the  sway  of  morality  over  humanity,  to 
believe  every  sane  member  of  it  guilty  of,  or  temptable  to,  dishonesty. 
Thousands  of  years  of  civilization,  of  education,  of  religious  teaching,  of 
social  intercourse,  of  necessitated  bridling  of  the  greeds  and  appetites, 
have  stamped  the  lesson  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy,  more,  is  a  right 
per  se,  too  deep  in  human  nature  to  permit  dishonesty  to  become  the 
controlling  vice  of  man.  It  is  unfortunately  true  the  lesson  has  been  a 
difficult  one  to  learn,  and  many  have  proven  themselves  poor  pupils, 
some  even  hopeless  cases.  But  why  overlook  the  many,  who  have  mas- 
tered their  task,  and  daily  repeat  it  without  a  flaw,  whom  neither  obstacle 
nor  temptation  will  confuse  or  lead  astray  ? 

Honesty  has  not  yet  become  such  a  rarity  as  to  necessitate  our  visit- 
ing some  ancient  museum  to  see  a  specimen  of  it.  It  flourishes  at  our 
doors.  It  looks  into  our  windows.  It  runs  against  us  on 
our  streets.  It  counts  its  devotees  among  the  young  and 
among  the  old,  among  the  high  and  among  the  low. 
There  is  probably  not  one  among  you  who  has  not  beautiful  stories  to  tell 
of  pleasing  encounters  with  it.  Only  this  very  morning  on  my  way  here 
I  observed,  as  I  had  frequently  done  before,  different  newspapers  dis- 
played for  sale  on  the  doorsteps  of  a  house,  with  a  number  of  coins 
scattered  over  them,  without  a  salesman  in  sight.  I  saw  a  man  approach 
the  unguarded  improvised  newspaper  stand,  pick  out  the  paper  he  wanted, 
deposit  the  price  for  it,  and  go  his  way,  without  any  one  present  to  satisfy 
himself  of  the  honesty  of  the  transaction.  An  insignificant  affair  though 
it  was,  to  me  it  proved  that  the  owner  of  these  papers  showed  by  his  absence 
that  he  did  not  believe  in  the  dishonesty  of  the  average  man,  while  the 
man  who  selected  his  paper  and  deposited  the  price  of  it  alongside  the 
other  coins,  without  as  much  as  looking  for  the  salesman,  convinced 
me  that  there  are  some  who  will  not  steal  even  though  they  have  the 
chance. 

I  remember  asking  once  for  a  name  or  date,  I  do  not  now  recollect 
which,  in  one  of  my  classes,  to  which  the  answer  was  rather  slow  in  forth- 
coming. At  length  the  answer,  or  what  I  understood  to  be  the  right 
answer,  was  given  me  by  one  of  the  boys,  which  I  acknowledged  with  a 
few  words  of  praise.  When  I  had  written  the  answer  on  the  board  to 
impress  it  the  better  on  the  other  pupils,  the  boy  that  had,  as  I  believed, 
given  it  rose  to  say,  that  the  answer  on  the  board  was  not  what  he  had 
said,  and  that  he  was  therefore  not  entitled  to  the  praise  he  had  received. 
Here  we  have  another  illustration  that  chance,  and  even  the  safest,  will 
not  always  tempt  to  dishonesty. 


It  was  the  Rev.  Robert  Collyer,  I  believe,  who  told  us  the  touching 
story,  how  he  was  one  very  cold  evening  approached  in  an  Edinburgh 
hotel  by  a  little  boy,  with  a  pinched  face,  his  bare  feet  frozen,  his  body  but 
scantily  covered  with  rags,  and  asked:  "Please,  sir,  buy  some  matches." 
Mr.  Collyer  did  not  want  any.  "  But  they  are  only  a  penny  a  box,"  said 
the  shivering  little  fellow.  The  cheapness  had  no  temptation  for  the 
Reverend  gentleman.  "You  may  have  two  boxes  for  a  penny  "  begged 
the  little  piece  of  starved  humanity.  Mr.  Collyer  had  no  change,  and 
promised  to  buy  some  other  time.  "Oh,  do  buy  them  to-night,"  the 
boy  pleaded,  "  I  will  run  and  get  you  the  change,  for  I'm  very  hungry." 
Unable  to  resist  any  longer,  the  clergyman  gave  him  a  shilling,  never 
expecting  to  see  the  boy  again.  For  a  few  hours  his  expectation  proved 
true.  But  late  in  the  evening  a  still  smaller  and  still  more  wretched 
looking  boy  rushed  into  the  hotel,  up  to  a  group  of  gentlemen,  and 
breathlessly  asked:  "  Be  any  of  ye's  the  gentleman  that  bought  matches 
from  brother  Sandie."  Mr.  Collyer  told  him  he  was  the  man.  "  Here, 
sir,  is  fourpence  out  o'yer  shilling.  Sandie  cannot  come;  he's  very  ill; 
a  cab  ran  over  him  and  knocked  him  down,  and  he  lost  his  cap  and  his 
matches,  and  your  sevenpence,  and  both  his  legs  are  broken,  and  the 
doctor  says  he'll  die,  and  that's  a',"  and  then  putting  the  fourpence  on 
the  table,  the  poor  child  burst  out  in  tears,  and  brought  tears  into  the 
eyes  of  his  listeners.  Mr.  Collyer  accompanied  the  boy  to  his  miserable 
lodging  in  the  slums  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  found  the  story  only  too 
true.  Both  their  parents  were  dead.  There  was  neither  food  nor  warmth 
in  the  room,  temptation  enough  to  be  dishonest,  and  yet  the  dying  boy's 
only  thought  in  all  his  agony  was  to  have  the  change  brought  back — all 
that  was  left  of  it — to  the  gentleman,  and  he  could  not  be  pacified  till 
his  wee  little  brother  had  started  to  take  it  back,  and  to  explain  the  delay 
and  the  shortage  of  the  change.  A  pleased  expression  stole  over  his 
pallid  face  when  he  saw  Mr.  Collyer  enter  the  miserable  hole.  Faintly 
he  apologized  for  not  coming  back 'with  the  change,  begged  him  not  to 
think  him  dishonest,  commended  his  little  brother  Reuby  to  his  care — 
and  breathed  his  last.  Here  was  extreme  poverty,  slum-environment, 
inexperienced  youth,  favoring  opportunity,  fatal  accident,  mighty  temp- 
tations to  dishonesty,  and  yet  even  here  human  character  proved  that  it 
is  not  wholly  depraved. 

Let  us  look  at  this  question  from  yet  another  point  of  view.  During 
the  recent  Franco-Prussian  war,  as  Dr.  Neale  informs  us,  a  cavalry  Captain 
called  a  French  peasant,  who  was  working  in  the  field,  to  his  side,  and 
commanded  him  to  take  him  and  his  troop  to  a  good  barley-field,  where 
the  horses  could  be  fed.  The  peasant,  obliged  to  obey,  led  them  some 
way,  till  at  length  he  brought  them  to  what  they  wanted.  "These  will 
do  very  well,"  said  the  Captain.  "  Nay,  follow  me  a  little  further  still," 
said  the  guide,  ' '  and  I  will  show  you  one  that  will  do  better. ' '.  Soon 
they  reached  another  barley-field.  "This  does  not  seem  to  be  as  good  a 
field,"  said  the  Captain,  somewhat  surprised,  "as  that  which  you  led  us 
past."  " No, "  said  the  peasant,  "but  this  is  mine."  Was  this  perhaps 


;  another  instance  of  the  average  man's  dishonesty  or  of  his  yielding  to  it 
under  favoring  chances  ?  Here  was  a  simple  peasant,  forced  to  show  a 
barley-field  to  an  enemy  for  depredation,  passing  by  one  that  satisfied  the 
enemy  even  better,  and  leading  them  into  his  own  field,  believing  it  in 
his  heart  to  be  dishonest  to  surrender  another  man's  field  to  the  foe,  and 
save  his  own. 

Let  us  hear  another  story,  one  that.Paxton  Hood  tells,  that  will  help 
to  make  our  argument  stronger  still.  The  scene  of  this  narrative  is  laid 
in  the  Alpine  region  of  Switzerland,  and  the  principal  characters  are  two 
humble  peasants,  named  Franz  and  Gaspard.  "  My  friend,"  said  Franz 
one  day  to  Gaspard,  who  was  mowing  his  field,  "the  time  is  come  to 
clear  the  hay  from  the  meadow.  You  know  there  is  a  dispute  about  the 
meadow  whether  it  belongs  to  you  or  me.  The  judges  meet  at  Salenche 
to-morrow,  and  they  want  us  to  appear  before  them  to  state  our  case." 
"  You  see,  Franz,"  answered  Gaspard,  "  that  I  have  cut  the  grass;  it  is, 
therefore  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  get  it  up  to-morrow;  I  can- 
not leave  it."  "And  I  cannot  send  away  the  judges,  who  have  chosen 
the  day  themselves.  Besides,  we  must  know  to  whom  the  meadow  belongs 
before  it  is  cleared."  They  debated  some  time.  At  length  Gaspard  said 
to  Franz:  "Go  to  Salenche,  tell  the  judges  my  reasons  as  well  as  your 
own  for  claiming  the  meadow,  and  then  I  need  not  go  myself."  So  it  was 
agreed.  Franz  pleaded  both  for  and  against  himself,  and,  to  the  best  of 
his  power  presented  his  own  and  Gaspard 's  claims.  When  the  judges 
had  pronounced  their  sentence  he  returned  to  his  friend  saying:  "The 
meadow  is  thine;  the  judgment  is  in  thy  favor,  and  I  wish  you  joy." 
What  better  chance  can  anyone  have  to  further  his  own  cause  at  the 
expense  of  another  than  Franz  had  ?  What  better  evidence  can  we  have  that 
there  are  men  whose  honesty  is  beyond  all  temptation  of  gain  ?  What 
better  proof  that  not  everybody  has  arrived  at  that  pessimistic  state  in 
which  every  man  is  believed  to  be  dishonest  than  the  confidence  which 
Gaspard  reposed  in  Franz  ? 

It  may  be  objected  that  in  the  examples  that  I  have  given  the  temp- 
tations weremere  trifles,  and  that  the  heroes  were  mere  children  who  had 
not  yet  gotten  beyond  the  influence  of  Sunday  Schools  and  Nursery  Tales, 
and  who  had  not  yet  the  courage  to  be  dishonest,  or  simple  rustics  too 
far  removed  from  the  centres  of  civilization  to  be  contaminated  by  the 
corruptions  of  trade,  and  by  the  extravagances  of  society.  As  far  as  the 
trifling  temptations  are  concerned,  your  own  schoolday  recollections  will 
bear  me  out  that  a  teacher's  public  recognition  of  merit  is  not  a  trifle  to 
a  pupil;  and  to  boys  selling  papers  or  matches  for  a  living  the  brown 
coppers  are  as  much  of  a  treasure  as  the  yellow  guineas  and  eagles  are  to 
the  merchant  princes,  and  a  barley-field  or  a  meadow  is  as  much  of  a 
fortune  to  a  French  or  Swiss  peasant  as  a  Western  ranch  is  to  a  Duke. 
And  as  to  saddling  dishonesty  on  the  cities,  especially  on  their  wealthier 
people,  we  need  but  recall  the  money-transaction  between  the  founder  of 
;  the  House  of  Rothschild  and  the  prince  of  Hesse  Cassel  to  be  assured  that 
men  may  live  in  cities  and  engage  in  trades,  and  be  wealthy,  and  have 


the  best  chances  for  greatly  increasing- their  wealth  by  dishonest  means, 
and  yet  maintain  a  spotless  honesty.  During  the  French  War  the  prince 
of  Hesse  Cassel,  fleeing  through  -Frankfort  with  a  large  treasure  in  his 
possession,  left  it  with  Rothschild,  to  be  used  as  seemed  best  to  the  banker, 
with  little  hope  of  ever  seeing  it  again,  knowing  that  the  enemy  might 
anyday  enter  Frankfort  and  rob  the  banker  of  all  his  possessions.  A  part 
of  his  fear  came  true.  The  French  army  entered  Frankfort,  plundered 
the  city,  robbed  Rothschild  of  all  but  the  prince's  treasure,  which  was 
buried  in  his  garden.  This  he  dug  up,  and  used  in  trade,  and  when  the 
times  of  peace  returned  he  restored  the  money  and  the  jewels  to  the 
prince,  though  he  had  lost  his  own.  The  prince  in  gratitude  recom- 
mended the  honest  banker  to  various  sovereigns,  and  thus  helped  to  build 
up  the  name  and  fortune  of  the  famous  Banking  House.  Here  was  cer- 
tainly chance  enough  for  dishonesty.  Herr  Rothschild  could  easily  have 
given  it  out  that  the  deposited  treasure  had  been  robbed  together  with 
his  own,  and  the  prince  would  never  have  been  the  wiser.  And  should 
it  even  be  claimed  that  the  banker's  honesty  was  only  a  speculation,  that 
he  counted  on  larger  returns  from  his  honesty  than  his  dishonesty  would 
have  yielded,  even  this  would  disprove  Renan's  belief  that  'virtue  is  a  bad 
investment,  that  if  honesty  were  the  best  policy  sagacious  business  men 
would  long  since  have  noted  the  fact,  and  become  honest. ' 

There  is  yet  another  objection  to  be  met.     Men  may  admit  that  the 
Psalmist  and  M.  Renan  and  the  New  York  merchant  indulged  in  exag 
gerations  when  they  credited  every  man,  or  the  average 
wide  prevalence    man  with  dishonesty,  that  the  illustrations  of  honesty  that 
mitted  °"  ^  ^a<^  given  are  true,  and  a  thousand  others  like  them, 

and  yet  hold  with  Hamlet  that  "to  be  honest,  as  this 
world  goes,  is  to  be  one  man  picked  out  of  ten  thousand,"  that  the  degrees 
of  dishonesty  from  highway  robbery  to  the  little  harmless  deceptions 
are  so  many,  and  some  of  such  delicate  shading,  that  people  are  often 
guilty  of  it  without  knowing,  and  in  such  large  numbers  as  to  make  Pope's 
celebrated  line: 

"  An  honesl  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God." 

also  true  in  paraphrase: 

"  An  honest  man's  the  rarest  work  of  God." 

It  may  be  claimed  that  the  prominence  given  to  such  stories,  as  I  cited 
above,  in  school,  in  church,  on  stage,  in  press,  on  platform,  in  conversa- 
tion, indicates  that  honesty  is  an  exceptional  virtue,  that  the  patent  locks 
and  bolts  and  safes  and  burglar-alarms  wherewith  we  protect  our  homes 
and  shops  and  offices,  the  precautionary  contracts  and  notes  and  pledges 
and  signatures  we  ask  and  give  often  even  from  and  to  our  nearest  and 
dearest,  the  fears  we  entertain,  the  suspicions  we  harbor,  do  not  show  a 
very  strong  faith  in  human  honesty;  that  the  higher  salaries  we  pay  for, 
and  greater  honors  we  show  to,  honest  service,  that  the  reward  we  offer 
and  pay  to  the  restorer  of  a  lost  article,  and  the  indignation  we  feel  when 
such  a  return  is  not  sufficiently  rewarded,  shows  but  too  plainly  how  rare 
-and  how  marketable  a  virtue  honesty  is. 


That  objection,  we  fear,  is  one  that  we  shall  not  easily  meet.  It  is; 
unfortunately  based  on  too  much  truth  to  encourage  much  of  an  attempt 
at  answering  it.  Explain  away  as  much  as  we  may,  the  fact  remains  that 
dishonesty  is  perhaps  the  commonest,  the  most  wide-spread  sin  of  the 
human  family,  that  it  infests  every  strata  of  society,  that  it  is  as  much  at- 
home  in  the  Courts  of  Justice,  in  the  Halls  of  Legislation,  in  the  School 
and  in  the  Church,  as  it  is  in  the  Public  Marts. 

It  is  not  a  frequent  pulpit  theme.  Preachers  are  often  too  dishonest 
themselves  to  aim  their  eloquence  at  the  dishonest.  It  is  there  where 
Kenan's  doctrine  of  the  unprofitableness  of  honesty  has 
considerable  force.  Honest  speaking  might  injure  the  ^^^fhere> 
preacher's  salary,  might  endanger  his  re-election,  might 
bring  coolness  between  himself  and  his  influential  supporters.  There 
was  a  plantation  preacher  during  the  days  of  slavery,  who  wielded  con- 
siderable influence  over  his  little  flock  of  slaves.  One  day  the  slave 
master  said  to  him:  "  Pompey  I  hear  you  are  a  great  preacher."  "  Yes, 
massa,  de  Lord  do  help  me  powerful  sometimes."  "  Well.  Pompey,  don't 
you  think  the  negroes  steal  little  things  on  the  plantation  ?"  "  I'se  mighty 
'fraid  they  does,  massa."  "Then,  Pompey,  I  want  you  to  preach  a  ser- 
mon to  the  negroes  against  stealing."  After  a  brief  reflection,  Pompey 
replied,  "  You  see,  massa  dat  wouldn't  never  do,  'cause  'twould  trow  such 
a  col'ness  over  de  meetin'."  Other  and  more  cultured  preachers  are 
equally  afraid  that  preaching  against  the  transgression  of  the  Eighth 
Commandment  is  apt  to  seriously  damage  their  popularity,  and  to  throw 
a  coolness  over  their  relationship  with  those,  whose  toes  might  be  stepped 
upon. 

Such  pulpit  dishonesty,  such  fear  of  honestly  preaching  the  honest 
truth  to  dishonest  people,  may  be  not  a  little  responsible  that  fraud  and 
knavery  and  deception  are  still  perhaps  the  commonest 
and  most  wide-spread  of  all  our  sins.     Among  the  other    gxistenc^  C 
reasons  that  Law  of  Nature  that  enforces  a  Struggle  for 
Existence  stands  foremost.     The  necessities  of  life  are  not  equally  divided. 
Some  have  much,  others  little,  others  must  engage  in  a  keen  struggle  to 
have  any  at  all.     Cold  and  hunger  are  painful,  and  to  those  that  have  to 
suffer  them  the  abundance  of  the  rich  is  mightily  tempting.     And  since 
man's  evolution  from  the  lower  species,  among  which  the  instinct  of  the 
inviolability  of  proprietary  right  is  wholly  wanting,  is  but  of  a  compara- 
tively recent  date,  and  since  in  lower  animal  life  the  mode  of  maintaining 
existence  is,  excepting  the  domestic  animals,  wholly  by  means  of  brute- 
force,  thievery,  cunning,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that  brutish  men  in 
want  should  still  employ  the  methods  of  brutes  to  keep  alive. 

As  another  reason  for  the  frequency  of  frauds  and  deceptions  we  may 
mention  that  other  Law  of  Nature,  that  enforces  the  Surrii'al  of  the  Fittest* 
The  fittest,  however,  as  in  the  commercial  world,  for  in- 
stance, is  not  always  the  most  virtuous.  Here,  too,  Renan's    ^  Fittest™1  *" 
belief  that  "virtue  is  a  bad  investment  in  this  present  finite 
state  of  things"  applies  with  considerable  directness.     Honest  men  with 


honest  methods  are  forced  to  compete  with  dishonest  men  and  dishonest 
methods  for  the  patronage  of  people,  who  are  largely  guided  by  appear- 
ance or  price  or  talk,  and  lower  price  and  poorer  quality  and  oily  talk 
win  where  honest  goods  and  honest  prices  and  honest  representation 
often  fail.  To  have  an  equal  chance  for  surviving,  such  would-be-honest 
men  are  much  inclined  to  look  upon  themselves  as  martyrs,  but  not  to' 
the  extent  of  sacrificing  loss  rather  than  integrity.  They  think  themselves 
justified  to  falsify  goods,  to  misrepresent,  to  steal  from  their  laborers'' 
wages,  as  their  competitors  do,  to  have  an  equal  chance  for  proving  them- 
selves the  Survival  of  the  Fittest. 

As  another  reason  we  might  mention  the  manifold  advantages  that 
wealth  enjoys,  and  the  corresponding  degradation  and  misery  of  poverty. 
"In  this  present  finite  state  of  things"  labor  has  little 
WeaUhantage  °f  for  its  toil>  money  has  it  all.  The  purse  is  mightier  than 
the  square  and  compass,  mightier  than  the  pen.  The 
rich  man  has  a  world  at  his  feet;  the  poor  man  has  a  world  at  his  throat. 
All  honors,  all  doors,  all  hearts,  all  pleasures,  fly  open  before  the  one; 
and  close  before  the  other.  The  handsome  mansion  of  the  one  faces  the 
beautiful  avenue;  the  miserable  tenement  of  the  other  stands  in  the  filth- 
reeking  alley  or  by-street.  The  table  of  the  one  groans  under  the  weight 
of  the  choicest  viands;  the  other  groans  because  of  the  emptiness  of  his 
table.  IvUxuriant  equipages  convey  the  one;  the  other  must  trudge  with 
weary  foot  his  distant  way.  To  escape  the  summer's  heat,  the  one  hastens 
to  the  seaside,  or  to  the  mountain  top,  or  to  his  country  residence,  and 
to  escape  the  winter's  cold  he  betakes  himself  to  a  warmer  climate;'  the 
other  must  swelter  at  his  toil  when  the  sun  burns  hottest,  and  shiver 
when  the  storm  blows  coldest.  Discontent  roots  itself  in  the  heart  of  the 
latter.  It  developes  a  false  line  of  reasoning.  He  believes  that  all  men 
have  an  equal  right  to  all  wealth,  that  the  taking  from  the  rich  the  super- 
fluities of  wealth  is  an  act  as  salutary  as  the  leech's  drawing  blood  from 
a  full-blooded  patient,  that  his  wealth  was  easily  acquired,  and  that  it  is, 
therefore,  no  wrong  to  help  oneself  to  a  part  of  it. 

As  another  reason  for  the  prevalence  of  dishonesty  we  might  mention 
our  tolerance  of  high-toned  fraud.  We  bestow  the  title  of  genius  on 
those  sharpers  who  know  the  art  of  swindling  the  people 
h?gh>-torifedfraud  out  of  millions  of  dollars.  We  honor  as  our  aristocracy 
the  "Bears"  and  "Bulls"  of  our  Stock  Exchange,  that 
lower  or  raise  the  value  of  stocks  as  best  profits  their  own  pockets  and 
empties  those  of  others.  We  hail  as  benefactors  the  organizers  of  mono- 
polies, trusts  and  combines,  who  wreck  fortunes  and  lives,  raise  prices, 
lower  wages,  impoverish  the  many  to  enrich  the  few.  We  feel  ourselves 
honored  to  be  noted  by  "stock-gamblers,"  "  stock-waterers, "  by  those 
who  "  corner  "  the  markets,  bankrupt  the  nations  and  plunder  the  people. 
We  invest  with  high  offices  the  henchmen  of  legislation-needing  corpora- 
tions, political  bosses,  who  deal  in  voters  as  drovers  deal  in  cattle,  and 
whose  services,  pledged  to  the  people,  are  ever  at  the  command  of  the 
highest  bidder.  With  such  high-toned  fraud  as  model,  we  cannot  be.- 


surprised  at  the  abundance  of  low-toned  thievery  in  the  lower  strata.  With 
such  honors  heaped  upon  the  big  sharks,  we  cannot  be  surprised  that  the 
small  fry  should  be  tempted  into  the  high  art  of  spoliation  to  be  some- 
bodies, too,  believing  with  Weber:  "Man  muss  heutzutage  betriigen, 
wenn  man  ein  ehrlicher  Mann  sein  will,"  we  cannot  be  surprised  that 
there  should  be  such  a  wide-spread  belief  that  to  be  successful  the  best 

mode  to  pursue  is 

"  the  simple  plan 

That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power 
And  they  should  keep  who  can" 

and  that  the  captured  common  criminals  should  ever  seek  to  palliate 
their  offense  by  claiming  that  they  have  done  only  in  another  form  what 
the  rich  are  doing  daily  unpunished,  that  there  is  Law  for  the  rich  but 
not  for  the  poor,  that  for  the  private  thief  there  is  the  prison,  for  the 
public  thief  there  are  honors  and  offices,  for  the  slayer  of  one:  the  top  of 
the  scaffold,  for  the  slayer  of  the  thousands:  the  top  of  the  ladder. 

As  another  reason  why  dishonesty  is  so  common  and  so  wide-spread 
we  may  mention  certain  false  standards  of  morals  that  are  winked  at, 
even  sanctioned,  by  respectable  people.  Men  often  parade 
as  economy,  as  sagacious  dealing,  as  sharp  manoeuvering,  ards  oFmoralV 
what  is  downright  fraud  and  deception.  .  It  would  require 
a  more  powerful  magnifying  glass  than  any  that  has  yet  been  constructed 
to  discover  a  difference  between  thievery  and  certain  sharp  dealings  prac- 
ticed by  people,  who  think  themselves  paragons  of  honesty.  People 
think  nothing  of  squeezing  their  tax-rates  till  scarcely  the  rind  is  left 
to  the  authorities,  to  elude  the  revenue-officer  and  to  evade  the  payment 
of  duties,  of  rail-way  fares,  as  if  it  were  less  criminal  to  defraud  govern- 
ments or  corporations  than  individuals.  People  think  nothing  of  adver- 
tising wares  and  prices  in  style  and  language  that  are  well-known  to 
themselves  to  be  positive  misrepresentations,  as  if  it  were  less  criminal 
to  steal  money  out  of  peoples'  pockets  in  oneway  than  in  another.  People 
think  nothing  of  recommending  to  others  employees  whom  they  have 
dismissed  for  unfitness,  and  friends  whose  abilities  they  know  to  be  of 
little  value,  as  if  tampering  with  a  man's  confidence  were  not  as  much 
of  a  crime  as  tampering  with  his  cash-drawer.  People  think  nothing  of 
screwing  their  laborers'  wages  down  to  the  starvation  point,  as  if  stealing 
a  man's  labor  were  not  as  great  a  guilt  as  stealing  its  accumulated  pro- 
duct. They  may  call  it  "  legitimate  business, "  "  honest  gain,"  or  by  some 
other  euphonious  name — as  the  Arab  thieves  call  in  their  language, 
their  plunder:  "gain  " — call  it  what  they  will,  Lowell  still  is  right: 

"  In  vain  we  call  old  notions  fudge 
And  bend  our  conscience  to  our  dealing; 
The  Ten  Commandments  will  not  budge; 
And  stealing  will  continue  stealing." 

We  must  not  misunderstand  the  last  line  of  this  stanza.     Lowell  does 
not  mean  to  say  that  man  will  always  continue  stealing,  but  that  stealing, 


no  matter  in  what  form,  will  always  be  called  stealing. 
fu°uref°r  the  No>  I  d°  not  think  that  fraud  and  deception  will  always 

be  as  common  and  as  wide-spread  as  now.  We  have  seen 
that  they  are  not  as  all-pervading  as  the  Psalmist  and  Shakespeare  and 
Renan  and  the  New  York  merchant  would  have  us  believe.  I  believe, 
and  I  have  proof  for  believing  it,  that  there  is  less  dishonesty  now  than 
ever  before.  I  believe  there  will  be  less  of  it  in  the  future  than  now.  I 
have  faith  in  the  moral  evolution  of  human  kind.  I  believe  the  time  is 
fast  drawing  nigh  when  preachers  will  be  less  fearless  to  speak  the  honest 
truth,  and  congregations  less  resentful  at  hearing  it;  when  men  will  heed 
more  the  counsels  of  the  divine  that  is  within  them  and  less  those  of  the 
brute  instincts  that  are  not  yet  eliminated;  when  men  will  place  integrity 
above  self-interest,  and  find  it  the  most  profitable  as  well  as  the  most 
honorable  investment;  "  when  plain  living  and  high  thinking"  will  re- 
place extravagance  and  the  resorting  to  dishonest  means  for  its  indul- 
gence; when  labor  will  equally  share  with  wealth  the  advantages  and 
enjoyments  of  life;  when  character  and  not  money  will  constitute  the 
universal  standard  of  moral  excellence;  when  the  high-toned  criminals 
will  be  dealt  with  as  the  low-toned;  when  every  man  will  echo  the  noble 
sentiment  Washington  expressed:  "I  hope  I  shall  always  possess  firmness 
and  virtue  enough  to  maintain,  what  I  consider  the  most  enviable  of  all 
.titles,  the  character  of  an  "  Honest  Man." 


The  Highest  Fame:  A  "Good  Name." 


RABBI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF,  D.  D. 
Philadelphia,  April  i?th,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx;  16)  iptf  -\y 

(Prov.  xix;  5)  npr 

(Prov.  xxv.  18)  njy  -\y 


"There  are  three  crowns:  the  Crown  of  Learning,  the  Crown  of  Priesthood,  the 
Crown  of  Royalty,  but  the  Crown  of  a  Good  Name  is  greater  than  all." 
(Talmud,  A  both  iv;  13.) 

"  Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
Nor  wants  that  little  long." 

Goldsmith—  The  Hermit.  St.  8. 

So  the  poet  said,  and  experience  confirms  his  saying.  But  experience 
also  confirms  the  addition  some  wag  made  to  this  stanza,  that  though 
'  '  man  wants  but  little  here  below  '  '  he  wants  of  that  little 
a  great  deal.  Authorities  on  Dietetics  tell  us  that  about  Llfece^efess  toil. 
twenty-five  ounces  of  plain  and  nutritious  food  is  all  that 
an  adult  requires  a  day  to  keep  mind  and  body  in  good  health  and  in 
vigorous  activity,  and  that  nature  readily  supplies  that  want  with  but  a 
little  aid  from  man.  The  covering  that  man  needs  to  protect  himself 
against  the  cold  and  heat,  nature,  too,  amply  provides,  also  requiring  but 
little  of  man's  labor.  Were  man  content  with  this,  a  few  hours'  toil  a 
day  would  suffice  to  secure  for  him  all  the  necessaries  for  the  mainte- 
nance of  strong  and  useful  life.  But  man,  instead,  makes  life  synony- 
mous with  ceaseless  toil  and  moil.  The  earth  he  turns  into  a  mighty 
workshop,  where  his  hours  of  respite  are  few,  and  his  cares  and  worries 
many.  He  toils  for  more  food  than  he  can  eat,  for  more  clothes  than  he 
needs,  for  more  money  than  he  can  wisely  spend,  for  more  power  than 
needed  to  keep  his  own,  for  more  knowledge  than  required  to  guide  him 
aright.  Why  this  life-long  slavery  for  what  is  not  needed  ?  Why  this 
care  and  worry  for  that  which,  when  attained,  brings  but  more  of  burden  ? 
For  what  is  increase  of  wealth  but  a  recognition  of  one's  poverty  ?  What 
is  increase  of  power  but  a  recognition  of  one's  feebleness  ?  What  is  increase 
of  knowledge  but  increase  of  ignorance,  increase  of  pleasure  but  increase 
of  pain,  increase  of  fame  but  increase  of  defamers? 

Yet,  what  is  all  toil  and  trouble  compared  with  the  satisfaction  of 
living  on  other  peoples'  lips,  of  filling  a  place  in  other  peoples'  minds,  of 


seeing  one's  name  conspicuous  in  public  movements,  of 

name. 


being  well  spoken  of,  well  thought  of  by  friend  and  stran-    For  the  sake  of  a 


ger,  near  and  far.  Here  is  the  solution  why  man  slaves 
for  more  than  he  needs  to  maintain  life,  or  to  guide  him  aright.  His  aim 
is  a  name.  No  man  is  a  nonentity  from  choice.  However  great  his  in- 
difference to  other  things,  he  never  seeks  of  his  own  accord  to  pass  for  a 
cipher.  Men  fear  unimportance  more  than  want,  and  oblivion  more  than 
death.  There  are  those  who,  if  they  cannot  be  famous,  will  rather  be 
infamous  than  be  unknown  altogether.  Every  man  would  figure  as  a 
somebody,  and  to  gratify  his  desire  he  knows  he  must  distinguish  himself 
in  some  way  above  his  surrounding  fellow-creatures,  he  must  achieve  or 
possess  something  that  others  have  not  to  attract  his  neighbors'  attention. 
For  the  prize  of  a  name  men  will  resist  temptations  that  no  other  motive 
could  be  powerful  enough  to  withstand,  and  dare  feats  that  no  other  gain 
could  tempt.  Men  will  pluck  a  name  from  the  very  jaws  of  death;  will 
ascend  into  the  very  heavens  to  wrest  it  from  the  gods,  will  descend  into 
the  lowest  hells  to  seize  it  from  the  grasp  of  Satan  himself,  will  make  of 
their  bodies  torture-chambers  and  of  their  brains  seething  caldrons,  will 
freeze  and  starve  to  death  at  the  North  Pole,  or  throw  themselves  as  prey 
to  deadly  fevers,  to  ferocious  beasts  and  men  in  Africa's  interior,  will 
search  heaven  and  earth  for  new  discoveries  and  new  contrivances,  and 
not  hesitate  to  surrender  their  lives  and  all  as  purchase-price. 

It  is  fortunate  that  such  a  craving  is  implanted  in  our  nature.  With- 
out it,  we  would  be  like  beasts  foraging  for  food  and  crouching  in  our 

lairs,  havine  no  other  aim  than  appeasing  the  innerman 
Craving  for  a 
name  the  driv-        and  protecting  the  outer.     The  desire  of  enjoying  a  good 

progress  '  name  has  been  the  creator  of  most  of  our  genius,  the 

driving-wheel  of  our  best  talents.  It  has  converted  sav- 
agery into  civilization,  cowards  into  heroes,  idlers  into  doers.  It  is  the 
propelling  force  of  progress,  of  enterprise,  of  achievement.  It  is  the  root 
of  virtue.  It  preserves  the  integrity  of  the  individual,  the  sanctity  of  the 
home,  the  purity  of  society,  the  peace  of  the  nation. 

When  such  benefits  are  the  products  of  a  good  name,  when  such 
sacrifices  are  made  and  such  hardships  endured  for  it,  when  all  men's 
actions  are  more  or  less  animated  by  it,  one  would  reasonably  have  ex- 
pected to  find  men  and  women  in  the  undisturbed  enjoyment  of  whatever 
name  they  have  honorably  acquired,  and  others  encouraged  to  strive  for 
the  same  end,  that  society  may  be  benefited  by  the  possessions  of  a  larger 
number  of  people,  who  pay  the  costly  price  of  hard  and  noble  service  for 
the  honor  of  enjoying  a  good  name.  But  it  is  the  opposite  rather  that 
we  find. 

Detraction  of  a  good  name  is  more  frequently  met  with  than  recog- 
nition of  it.  Calumny  runs  more  fluently  from  tongues  than  praise. 

The  more  eager  men  are  for  praise  the  readier  they  often 
Detraction  of 
name  a  common     are  to  deny  it  to  others.     The  more  anxious  men  are  to 

be  well  thought  of  by  others,  the  more  willing  they  often 
are  to  think  little  of  others,  and,  if  it  must  be,  to  fabricate  the  reason  for 


belittling  their  name.  As  there  are  eyes  that  get  wild  with  rage  when 
the  color  red  is  held  before  them,  so  are  there  ears  that  become  frenzied 
with  malice  at  hearing  another  man  praised.  You  can  easily  turn  many 
a  comedian  into  a  tragedian,  many  a  musician's  pianissimo  into  a  violent 
fortissimo,  many  a  preacher  from  lamb  to  wolf,  by  merely  saying  a  word 
of  praise  of  a  brother  colleague  in  their  hearing.  The  most  praise-deserv- 
ing often  has  the  scantiest  recognition,  or  is  most  exposed  to  slander's 
tongue.  Reputations  built  up  through  long  years  of  painful  toil  and 
self-denial,  are  not  infrequently  torn  down,  sullied  forever,  in  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  tell  it.  Pulling  down  is  easier  work  than  pulling  up. 
There  are  plants  so  sensitive  that  the  merest  touch  will  wither  them. 
Equally  as  delicate  is  a  good  name.  Touch  it  with  unclean  hands,  or 
breathe  the  breath  of  foul  slander  upon  it,  and  not  all  the  sands  of  all  the 
oceans  will  remove  the  stain,  nor  will  all  the  perfumes  of  Arabia  sweeten 
it  again.  So  easy  a  work  is  such  detraction,  and  of  so  cheap  a  price,  that 
everybody  can  afford  the  luxury  of  indulging  it.  Their  number  is  small, 
who  do  not  sometime  seek  to  whiten  their  own  names  by  blackening 
those  of  others.  Alexander  Pope  is  right: 

"  The  world  with  calumny  abounds, 
The  whitest  virtue  slander  wounds; 
There  are  whose  joy  is  night  and  day 
To  talk  a  character  away: 
Eager  from  rout  to  rout  they  haste 
To  blast  the  generous  and  the  chaste, 
And  hunting  reputation  down, 
Proclaim  their  triumphs  through  the  town." 

I  know  not  whether  it  is  the  ease  with  which  this  sin  is  committed, 
or  the  impunity  which  it  enjoys,  that  is  responsible  for  its  wide  prev- 
alence. Neither  can  I  tell  whether  it  was  always  as 

•D    .  4.1-     T  j     i  . ,  Its  prevalence 

common  as  now.     But  this  I  do  know:  it  was  not  always   due  to  exemption 

as  safe.  It  was  a  dangerous  business  at  one  time  to  tarn-  from  punishment 
per  with  a  man's  reputation.  The  man  convicted  in  the  time  of  Alfred 
the  Great  of  having  maliciously  spread  an  evil  report  against  his  neigh- 
bor had  his  tongue  cut  out.  Were  such  a  law  enacted  now-a-days,  we 
would  either  see  a  mighty  stampede  into  the  well-nigh  deserted  truth- 
telling  camp,  or  see  our  earth  fast  becoming  a  vast  Dumb- Asylum.  In 
other  countries  those  guilty  of  unjustly  detracting  from  the  character  of 
others  had  the  word  SLANDERER  stamped  with  a  hot  iron  on  their  foreheads. 
Were  that  practice  now  in  vogue,  our  ladies  would  wear  their  bangs  thicker 
and  deeper  over  their  foreheads  than  now,  and  our  men  would  imitate 
that  style  of  hairdress  with  surprising  rapidity.  In  other  countries  those 
convicted  of  having  written  a  defamation  of  another's  good  name,  had 
their  right  arms  cut  off.  Were  such  a  punishment  still  meted  out  to 
calumniators,  an  amazingly  large  crop  of  one-armed  war  veterans  would 
suddenly  spring  up,  our  campaign-liars  would  fast  exchange  their  stumps 
for  the  position  of  one-armed  flagmen  at  railway-crossings,  and  many  of 
our  lawyers  and  diplomats,  authors,  editors  and  preachers,  would  be 


4, 

obliged  to  take  to  writing  with  their  left  hands,  or  to  thinking  with  their 
right  minds. 

Even  in  ancient  times,  few  sins  were  looked  upon  with  as  much  of  con- 
tempt as  slander.     Of  the  four  classes  that  will  never  be  admitted  into  the 

presence  of  the  Divine  Majesty,  the  Rabbis  of  old  mention 
Slander  more 
detestable  than       the  liar  as  one  and  the  slanderer  as  another.*     Even  the 

Spirits  of  Evil,  some  of  the  ancient  sages  declare,  detest 
the  backbiter;  '  God  will  judge  and  condemn  him  from  above,  and  the 
Prince  of  Sheol  from  below. 'f  The  thief  and  murderer  have  not  even 
awakened  such  scorn  as  the  malicious  defamer  of  character.  There  are 
thieves  whose  boldness  and  daring  and  chivalrous  spirits  involuntarily 
win  our  admiration,  and  tempt  us  to  more  lenient  judgment.  The  same 
is  true  of  some  murderers.  We  stand  aghast  at  their  deeds,  but  their 
valor,  their  perilous  adventures,  their  passion,  at  times  force  our  admira- 
tion ;  we  pity  the  circumstances  that  led  to  their  crime,  we  seek  to  palli" 
ate  the  offense  by  suspecting  some  mental  aberration.  We  have  had 
criminals,  who  became  popular  idols,  for  whom  women  raved,  whom  to 
imitate  became  the  highest  ambition  of  youth,  and  whom  men  immortal- 
ized in  romance  and  poetry,  characters  such  as  Dick  Turpin,  Jonathan 
Wild,  Jack  Sheppard,  or  brigands  of  the  Fra  Diavalo  and  Karl  Moor 
type,  which  the  opera  and  the  drama  have  made  familiar  to  us.  But  the 
slanderer  has  never  yet  awakened  any  other  feeling  than  the  most  con- 
temptuous scorn.  We  despise  him  for  the  want  of  that  courageous  and 
chivalrous  spirit  wherewith  even  thieves  and  murderers  win  our  admira- 
tion and  pity.  We  despise  that  cowardice  that  in  cold  blood,  with  malice 
aforethought,  stabs  a  man  in  his  back,  that  attacks  him  when  and  where 
he  cannot  defend  himself,  that,  like  the  serpent  in  the  grass,  stings  him 
when  least  suspected,  robs  him  of  what  took  infinite  toil  to  build  up,  and 
what  all  the  treasures  of  the  earth,  what  an  eternity  of  time,  cannot 
restore.  We  know  of  no  insult  that  so  touches  us  to  the  quick,  that  so 
makes  our  blood  to  boil  as  to  be  called  a  slanderer.  There  is  the  serpent's 
hiss  in  that  word.  It  injects  its  poison  into  the  wounded  feeling,  that 
will  not  heal  till  the  insult  has  been  resented  In  countries  where  duel- 
ling is  in  practice  to  call  a  man  a  libeller  is  an  offense  which  only  blood 
can  expiate. 

We  do  not  wonder  at  the  severity  and  contempt  with 
most  fatal.  which  slander  has  been  punished.    What  enemy  mightier 

than  it!     What  poison  more  fatal!  What  weapon  sharper! 

"  'Tis  slander 

Whose  edge  is  sharper  than  the  sword;  whose  tongue 
Outvenoms  all  the  worms  of  Nile;  whose  breath 
Rides  on  the  pasting  winds,  and  doth  belie 
All  corners  of  the  world:  kings,  queens,  and  states, 
Maids,  matrons,  nay,  the  secrets  of  the  grave 
This  viporous  slander  enters."  Cymbeline,  Act  III,  Sc.  iv. 

It  but  whispers  a  word  or  two,  utters  but  a  monosyllable,  points  but  its 


*Ta1m.  Babl.  Sanhedrin,  103,  a.        fibid.  Erchin,  15  b. 


finger,  shrugs  but  its  shoulder,  raises  but  its  eye-brow,  and  a  fair  name  is 
sullied,  a  happy  home  is  blasted,  sweet  and  comforting  relationships  are 
broken  up,  and  society  is  robbed  of  one  of  the  strongest  incentives  for 
the  elevation  of  the  individual  and  for  the  progress  of  humanity.  One's 
good  name  gone,  and  all  is  gone.  Other  losses  may  be  restored,  but  the 
name  that  has  become  slander's  prey  can  never  be  wholly  recovered. 
We  may  deny  and  defend,  and  prove  the  slander  a  base  invention,  but  the 
report  that  has  once  gone  abroad  is  beyond  recall.  Of  the  hundred  that 
have  heard  the  slander  ten  may  hear  the  denial,  and  five  of  these  may 
believe  it.  The  foul  finger  marks  will  remain.  The  scar  which  the  ser- 
pent's tooth  has  left  will  abide  forever.  The  shaken  confidence,  the  broken 
union,  though  restored,  will  forever  show  the  signs  of  mending.  Suspi- 
cion will  linger,  and  grow  into  slander  again,  when  its  victim  is  in  the 
grave,  and  no  longer  able  to  defend  himself.  Children  and  children's 
children  will  bear  the  marks  of  the  mire  and  venom  with  which  the  cal- 
umniator besmirched  a  fair  ancestral  name. 

"  For  slander  lives  upon  succession; 
For-ever  housed,  where  it  gets  possession." 

Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  III,  Sc.  i. 

' '  Forever  housed  where  it  gets  possession  ' ' — ah,  who  can  tell  a  more 
pitiful  story  of  this  than  Israel,  and  on  what  day  more  appropriately  than 

this  ?     This  is  our  Christian   neighbors'  Baster  Sunday. 

*      Illustrated  by  the 
In  thousands  of  sanctuaries,  consecrated   to   peace  and    Christian's 

good- will,  there  is  repeated  to-day,  amidst  great  pomp  slander  of  the 
and  festivity,  one  of  the  foulest  slanders  that  was  ever 
conceived  by  human  brain,  and  ever  uttered  by  human  lips.  On  this 
day,  some  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  an  ancient  solar  festival,  (com- 
memorative of  the  vernal  equinox,  and  of  earth's  resurrection  from  winter's 
death,  and  celebrated  by  heathen  nations  by  fictitious  slaying  and  burying 
and  resurrecting  of  their  sun-god  idol)  was  converted  into  an  historic 
event.  Of  the  Sun-God,  a  Son  of  God  was  made,  and  around  him  they 
wove  a  fantastic  tissue  of  heathen-borrowed  myth.  They  brought  him 
down  from  Heaven  to  walk  the  earth  in  human  guise,  to  suffer  and  to  be 
crucified,  according  to  the  Father's  own  decree,  and  to  the  Son's  special 
wish,  to  atone  with  his  blood  for  the  sins  of  a  depraved  people,  and 
thereby  to  appease  the  wrath  of  an  angry  Father.  Then  they  singled  out 
a  number  of  men  from  a  particular  people  to  perform  the  work,  on  which 
the  salvation  of  all  human  kind,  past,  present  and  future,  depended. 
And  when  they  had  done  the  deed,  which,  according  to  such  a  dogma, 
ought  to  have  been  regarded  the  most  glorious  service  ever  rendered  by 
man  to  man,  they  were  rewarded  with  infamy  and  infinite  suffering,  and 
not  only  the  participators  themselves,  but  also  the  whole  people  of  which 
they  formed  an  infinitesimal  part,  some  of  whom  lived  hundreds  of  miles 
.away  from  the  scene  of  action. 

So  much  for  the  myth.  As  to  the  historic  kernel  underlying  it,  you 
tnow  the  story  of  that  noble  brother  of  ours,  who,  in  his  zeal  for  his 
people,  unfortunately  permitted  himself  to  be  deluded  by  his  enthusiastic 


followers  into  the  belief,  that  he  was  the  Political  Deliverer,  for  whom 
the  Judeans  were  then  hoping  and  praying,  to  redeem  them  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  Roman  conqueror.  You  know  the  story  of  the  treason- 
able entry,  at  a  time  of  political  unrest  and  frequent  seditious  uprisings, 
into  Jerusalem,  that  was  under  the  watchful  guardianship  of  the  Roman 
legions,  especially  at  the  approach  of  the  Passover,  when  every  male 
Israelite  made  his  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  City.  You  "know  of  the  mad- 
ness of  his  proclamation  as  "King  of  Israel"  in  the  very  sight  of  the 
Roman  Standards.  What  followed  you  know.  Rome,  never  tolerant, 
never  generous,  always  cruel,  nailed  this  enthusiast,  as  it  had  nailed  others 
before,  on  the  cross,  with  a  crown  of  thorns  on  his  head  and  with  a  mock- 
inscription  over  it,  to  warn  other  aspirants  against  a  similar  fate.  What 
followed  this  you  also  know,  and  that  is  the  saddest  part  of  this  whole 
sad  story.  The  tragedy  of  one — slander  turned  into  a  tragedy  of  a  whole 
nation;  the  crucifixion  of  a  day  it  turned  into  a  crucifixion  of  eighteen 
centuries.  As  time  passed  on  the  brief  story  of  this  tragic  event  was 
transmitted  from  mouth  to  mouth  of  his  devoted  followers,  and,  as  is  the 
fate  of  all  oral  transmissions,  it  grew  in  size,  in  marvelousness,  till  it 
became  utterly  impossible  to  tell  exactly  where  history  ended  and  where 
legend  began.  As  the  years  rolled  on,  it  passed  from  Jew  to  the  Roman- 
ized Gentile,  who  blended  his  own  myths  with  this  myth-history,  and 
made  the  confusion  greater  still.  And  as  conversions  among  the  Roman- 
ized world  became  more  and  more  frequent,  and  hostilities  against  the 
great  mass  of  the  Jews,  who  refuted  to  believe  in  the  Messiahship  of  the 
Nazarene  Martyr,  grew  more  and  more  bitter,  it  dawned  in  some  mind 
as  an  excellent  propagandic  policy,  as  a  powerful  mean  to  conciliate  the 
Romans,  who,  for  political  reasons,  likewise  hated  the  Jews,  to  clear  them 
of  all  guilt,  to  credit  them  with  a  saintly  character,  to  represent  them  as 
helpless  weaklings  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews,  and  to  pile  the  whole 
responsibility  upon  the  innocent  heads  of  the  martyr's  own  brethren. 

Thus  was  that  slander  born,  that  has  made  an  innocent  people  a 
scorn  and  a  byword  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Thus  was  that 
slander  born,  that  for  eighteen  centuries  long  made  the  Jew  a  fugitive 
and  an  outcast,  in  every  land  where  that  Prince  of  Peace  and  Good  Will, 
their  own  brother,  was  worshipped.  For  this  slander  was  the  Jew  made, 
eighteen  hundred  years  long,  to  saturate  the  soil  of  half  of  the  inhabited 
world  with  his  heart's  blood,  was  he  made  to  endure  excruciating  agonies 
in  torture  chambers  and  on  autos  da  fe,  was  he  made  to  suffer  heart- 
rending cruelties,  nameless  insults,  loss  of  human,  rights,  exclusion  from 
respectable  society  and  callings.  And  to  our  own  days  this  slander  has 
endured,  so  true  are  Shakespeare's  words,  that  "slander  lives  upon  suc- 
ces^ion;  for-ever  housed,  where  it  gets  possession."  To  this  day  an 
innocent  posterity  is  treated  with  contempt,  is  slandered  and  vilified,  is 
suspected  and  hated,  for  a  crime  falsely  charged  to  a  no  less  innocent 
ancestry.  Could  you  but  hear  some  of  the  sermons  that  are  delivered 
to-day,  some  of  the  cruel  epithets  that  are  hurled  at  the  brethren  of  Him 
they  worship,  you  would  need  no  further  proof  to  be  convinced  of  the 


ineradicableness  of  slander's  poison.  The  learned  Academies  have  entered1 
their  protest,  the  damaging  contradictions  in  the  different  Gospels  have 
been  made  manifest,  the  heathen  sources  of  gospel  stories  have  been  laid 
bare,  the  analysis  of  Jewish  History,  Literature,  Laws,  Customs  and 
Institutions  have  given  the  lie  to  these  false  charges.  It  has  availed 
nothing.  The  slander  liwes, — and  Israel  suffers. 

This  form  of  slander,  of  creating  a  libel  out  of  nothing,  of  condemning 
whole  peoples  through  countless  generations,  without  the  intermixture  of  a 
grain  of  truth  in  its  support,  though  the  most  pernicious, 
is  fortunately  not  the  most  frequent.  Of  peoples  as  coun-  T^g  Half/f  nith 
tryless  and  as  defenseless  as  Israel  the  world  has  not  many, 
and  prudence  suggests  greater  care  and  justice  in  speaking  of  larger  and 
more  powerful  nations.  Had  Rome  not  been  so  mighty,  and  her  influ- 
ence and  protection  not  so  desirable,  and  her  people  not  so  subject  to 
conversion,  and  had  Israel  not  been  so  weak,  it  would  never  have  been 
made  to  suffer  for  her  crime.  It  is  an  old  trick  of  might  to  make  the 
wrong  appear  right,  and  the  right  appear  wrong,  and  to  play  the  roll  of 
the  mighty  has  never  been  Israel's  privilege  or  misfortune.  But  of  the 
other  forms  of  slander  we  have  much  more.  There  is  that  insinuating 
slander  of  the  Half-Truth,  that  tells  all  the  faults  it  knows  of  a  neighbor, 
and  carefully  conceals  all  his  good  qualities,  a  single  one  of  which  might 
atone  for  all  the  other  faults  combined,  were  it  but  known.  It  is  an  old 
sin,  one  that  Juvenal  already  satirized,  in  language  as  strong  as  this: 

"  There's  a  lust  in  man  no  charm  can  tame 
Of  loudly  publishing  our  neighbor's  shame; 
On  eagle's  wings  immortal  scandals  fly, 
While  virtuous  actions  are  but  born  to  die." 

Satire  IX.— Transl.  Stephen  Harvey. 

There  is  that  slander  that  hears  but  the  side  that  is  derogatory  of  a. 
neighbor's  character,  and  makes  the  most  of  it,  without  taking  the  trouble 

of  assuring  itself  whether  there  be  any  truth  at  all  in  the 

,  .      The  slander  of 
report,  and,  if  there  ber  what  the  accused  has  to  say  in  his   the  Haif-Testi- 

defense.  It  is  said  of  Aristides,  that  he  lent  but  one  ear  mony- 
to  one  who  accused  another  behind  his  back;  the  other  ear  he  held  shut, 
saying,  that  he  reserved  it  for  the  accused,  and  that  he  will  not  suffer  one 
ear  to  believe  till  the  other  has  also  heard.  No  wonder  he  was  called  the 
"Just,"  for  other  men  generally  adopt  a  different  course;  they  keep  both 
ears  wide  open  to  scandal  and  accusation,  and  both  tightly  shut  against 
denial  and  defense.  We  feel  incensed  over  that  Russian  procedure  that 
arrests,  convicts,  transports,  a  man  upon  the  merest  suspicion  of  political, 
intrigue,  without  as  much  as  granting  a  hearing  to  the  accused.  We  burn 
with  indignation  when  we  read  of  that  Robespierrian  tyranny  during  the 
French  Revolution,  that  condemned  a  man  to  the  guillotine  upon  no. 
stronger  evidence  of  guilt  than  mere  suspicion,  that  only  admitted 
evidence  against  the  accused,,  never  a  witness  in  his  favor.  But  how 
often  are  not  we  ourselves  guilty  of  similar  wrongs.  How  often  do 
not  we  ourselves  condemn  a  man  upon  the  merest  suspicion,  without 


granting  him  a  hearing,  without  confronting  him  with  his  accuser,  with- 
out permitting  him  to  submit  evidence  in  his  own  behalf.  We  hear, 
believe,  condemn,  and  speedily  tell  it  to  others  that  they  likewise  may 
believe  and  condemn.  Few  are  they,  who,  at  hearing  an  evil  report 
against  another  will  say  with  the  Latins  of  old  "Audiatur  etaltera  pars'* 
let  the  other  side  also  be  heard  before  sentence  is  passed. 
There  is  that  slander  that 

'  trusts  not  to  tongue  alone, 
But  speaks  a  language  of  its  own 
Stabs  with  a  nod,  a  shrug,  a  look, 
Far  better  than  a  printed  book; 
Conveys  a  libel  in  a  frown, 
And  winks  a  reputation  down.' 

Swift,  Journal  of  a  Modern  lM.dy:* 

Who  knows  not  those  polished  and  diplomatic  cut-throats  and  assas- 
sins that  never  commit  themselves  by  word  or  pen,  but  employ  instead 

the  deadly  artillery  of  facial  pantomime,  the  double- 
The  slander  of  J  . J 

malevolent  gesti-    edged  dagger  of  significant  look,  gesture,  shrug,  sneer 

and  mow  down  the  strongholds  of  character  though  not 
a  sound  is  heard,  stab  a  reputation  to  the  heart  though  not  a  word  is  said, 
blast  a  career  though  not  a  syllable  is  used  for  ammunition  ?  Who  knows 
not  those  men  and  women  who,  when  you  ask  them  for  an  opinion  con- 
cerning the  character  of  another,  or  who,  when  listening  to  your  praise 
of  another,  drum  with  their  fingers,  pull  up  their  noses,  wrinkle  their 
brows,  break  out  in  a  whistle  or  in  an  ejaculation,  or  shake  their  heads 
and  look  mightily  knowing,  to  put  you  on  your  guard,  to  make  you 
believe  that  if  they  but  wanted,  they  could  a  mighty  tale  unfold,  but 
they  wouldn't  do  it  for  the  world,  they  have  too  much  good  breeding, 
they  have  too  much  consideration,  and  yet  say  more  in  their  silence,  do 
more  harm  with  their  feigned  anxiety  to  spare,  than  they  possibly  could 
have  done  with  all  the  language  at  their  command,  for  they  give  the 
suspicion  which  they  have  aroused  within  you  boundless  sway  to  roam 
over  every  possible  crime,  while  the  suspected  may  be  innocent  of  even 
the  slightest? 

Of  what  profit  is  it,  you  may  ask,  to  filch  from  another  his  good 
name?    Selfish  gain  is  perhaps  the  strongest  motive.     The  slandered 

may  be  a  dangerous  rival,  whose  riddance  is  much  desired. 
Zander380118  fOr  Envy  is  another  cause.  There  are  those  who  may  have 

an  abundance  of  fame,  and  yet  cannot  hear  another 
praised  without  spurting  the  poison  of  vituperation  upon  him.  Vanity 
is  another  source.  There  are  those  who  believe  that  independent  and 
original  thinking  and  doing  best  show  themselves  in  running  down  the 
thoughts  and  deeds  of  another.  Fanaticism  is  another  source.  There 
are  those  who  would  have  all  the  world  believe  as  they  do,  and  think  it 
their  religious  duty  to  denounce  and  vilify  all  who  differ  from-  them. 
Idleness  and  ignorance  are  perhaps  the  commonest  sources  of  all.  There 

*  Slightly  altered. 


are  those,  who  will  run  others  down,  without  really  bearing  them  any 
malice,  without  expecting  to  derive  the  slightest  profit  from  their  detrac- 
tion, simply  to  have  somebody  to  talk  about,  to  pass  an  hour  or  two 
pleasantly  away  with  running  down  a  dozen  or  two  of  characters.  I  have 
read  of  a  hostess  who,  annoyed  at  an  evening  party,  over  the  dullness  of 
the  conversation  of  her  guests,  asked  an  intimate  friend  of  hers,  a  pretty 
and  brilliant  young  lady,  to  go  home,  that  the  conversation  may  become 
animated  by  having  somebody  to  run  down. 

And  for  such  base  reasons  must  many  a  good  name  be  sacrificed,  on 
the  attainment  of  which  infinite  labor  may  have  been  expended,  and 

from  the  preservation  of  which  endless  benefits  may  ac- 

Close  ear  to  slan- 
crue  to  humanity.     And  since  calumniation  is  one  of  the    der  and  slanderer 


commonest  of  our  vices,  since  no  name  that  is  at  all  worth 

detraction  escapes  calumny,  it  may  be  a  pertinent  ques- 

tion to  ask  (chivalrously  taking  it  for  granted  that  we  ourselves  have 

never  been  guilty  of  slander)  whether  we  have  not  encouraged  it  by  turn- 

ing a  ready  ear  to  the  slanderer  ? 

,  Close  your  ears  to  slander  and  you'  11  soon  close  the  slanderer's  mouth. 
Bar  your  doors  against  it,  and  it  will  soon  starve  and  freeze  to  death  upon 

the  street.     Even  though  you  be  free  from  the  sin  of 

.  .  To  preserve  our 

slander,  if  you  listen  to  it  and  repeat  it  to  others,  you  are    own  name  we 

as  guilty  as  the  slanderer.   Your  credulity  encourages  him  ™1  that 


to  other  murders  of  innocent  names,  and  your  aiding  in 
its  circulation  makes  you  accessories  to  his  crime.  If  you  wish  to  preserve 
the  honor  of  your  own  names,  you  must  sacredly  guard  that  of  others. 
If  you  wish  to  be  fairly  dealt  with  by  others,  even  so  must  you  deal  with 
them.  Only  by  leniently  judging'the  failings  of  others,  by  making  just 
allowances,  by  carefully  concealing  with  one  hand  another's  shame,  while 
trying  to  correct  it  with  the  other,  can  you  fairly  count  on  similar  treat- 
ment by  others.  Never  believe  that  people  will  always  treat  you  any 
better  than  you  treat  them.  The  world  is  a  faithful  looking-glass,  as  you 
look  at  it,  it  looks  back  at  you.  The  counsel  the  wise  Ben  Sirach  gave 
some  twenty  centuries  ago  is  still  safe  to  follow: 

"  Question  a  friend,  it  may  be  he  did  not; 
And  if  he  did  something  that  he  do  it  no  more. 
Question  thy  neighbor,  it  may  be  he  said  it  not; 
And  if  he  hath  said  it,  that  he  do  it  not  again. 
Question  a  friend  for  many  a  time  it  is  a  slander, 
And  believe  not  every  report. 

Many  a  one  maketh  a  slip  with  his  tongue  and  his  heart  meaneth  nothing  by  it. 
And  who  hath  not  sinned  with  his  tongue  ? 
Question  thy  neighbor  before  thou  threatenest, 
And  give  place  to  the  law  of  the  Most  High." 

Ecclesiasticus,  xix,  13-17. 

As  for  the  rest,  the  simple  rule  to  follow  is  to  take  as  little  notice  as 

possible  of  slander,  to  treat  other  people's  uncharitable 

Silence  slander 
opinion  of  you  as  Emperor  Theodosius  did,  who  prohib-   bv  treating  it 

ited  the  punishment  of  any  man  who  spoke  against  him,    ^Jj,"1* 
saying:  "  What  was  spoken  slightly  is  to  be  laughed  at; 


Tvhat  spitefully,  is  to  be  pardoned;  what  angrily,  is  to  be  pitied,  what 
justly  is  to  be  thanked."  Only  treat  the  slanderer  with  patient  silence, 
he  will  tire  of  his  venom,  just  as  the  dog  tires  of  baying  the  moon.  You 
are  never  so  near  proving  the  truth  of  his  defamation  than  when  you 
stoop  to  take  notice  of  him.  Lowering  yourselves  to  his  level  you  may 
be  tempted  to  copy  his  tactics,  and  become  vipers  yourselves.  Keep 
calm,  maintain  your  dignity,  and  you  will  find  that 

"  No  falsehood  can  endure 
Touch  of  celestial  temper." 

Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV,  Line  8n. 

So  live  that  a  blameless  life  may  be  your  only  answer  to  slander's  tongue. 
So  live  that  noble  deed  may  give  the  lie  to  the  calumniator's  detraction. 
So  live  that  the  traducer's  persecutions,  instead  of  awakening  fear,  may 
be  pleasing  compliments  to  you.  So  live  that  even  though  the  world  deny 
you  justice,  your  own  conscience  may  know  your  purpose  holy,  your  char- 
acter spotless,  your  name  unstained. 


A  Plea  for  Noble  Ambition. 

RABHI  JOSEPH  KRAUSKOPF.  D.  D. 

Philadelphia,  April  24th,  1892. 


(Exod.  xx.  17)  -nnr\ 

(Jerem.  vi.   131    ;«V3    ;'i'O   l^D   D^nj   l; 

i.  Habak.  ii.  9)  irn1?   ;"*   >'V3   £'¥3   'in 


We  read  in  the  /?00£  <?/"  Esther  of  the  great  honors  shown  by  the 
Persian  King  Ahasvenis  to  his  Prima  Minister  ffaman,  how  he  raised 
him  above  all  the  princes  of  the  realm,  commanded  all 
his  court-officers  and  attendants  to  bow  down  before  him,  53en5le*'d  "^ 
and  to  reverence  him.  In  one  so  highly  honored,  so 
abundantly  blessed  with  all  the  heart  could  desire,  one  might  reasonably 
have  expected  to  find  a  truly  happy  man.  But  the  Scriptures  assure  us 
of  the  contrary,  tells  us  of  his  discontent  and  vexation  of  spirit  because 
some  insignificant  Jew,  Mordecai  by  name,  who  frequented  the  palace 
gate,  refused  to  bow  down  before  him  and  to  do  him  reverence,  and  ac- 
quaints us  with  the  tragic  end  of  his  brilliant  career,  because,  not  contented 
with  the  honor  shown  him  by  king  and  princes,  he  sought  to  revenge 
himself  on  some  insignificant  mortal,  for  refusing  to  bow  before  him. 

This  story  furnishes  a  rich  field  for  moralizers,  and  they  have  not 
been  slow  in  taking  advantage  of  it.  Haman  has  come  to  be  looked  upon 
as  a  type  of  a  man  insatiably  greedy  after  honors,  and  his  miserable  end 
is  held  up  to  the  ambitious  as  a  warning.  Mordecai,  however,  is  lauded 
to  the  skies  for  his  moral  courage,  for  daring  to  refuse  to  a  powerful  min- 
ister, to  a  mighty  king's  favorite,  an  honor  which  belongs  to  God  alone, 
and  his  example  is  held  up  to  others  for  faithful  imitation.  I  must  con- 
fess, I  have  never  been  able  to  approve  of  all  the  vituperation  that  has 
been  heaped  upon  the  Persian,  nor  share  all  the  praise  that  has  been 
lavished  upon  the  Jew.  I  have  before  this  given  my  reasons  for  doubting 
the  historic  worth  of  the  Book  of  Esther.  ;:  Such  a  portrayal  of  character 
as  here  given  of  Mordecai  strengthens  my  doubt.  One,  that  stood  as  near 
to  the  throne  as  he,  would  have  known  what  honor  is  due  to  the  chief 
minister  of  the  realm,  would  not  have  begrudged  showing  a  respect  which 
an  orientalist  is  only  too  glad  to  show;  nor  would  he,  as  a  scarcely  tole- 
rated Jew  in  a  stranger's  land,  have  been  so  imprudent  as  to  invite  upon 
his  people  a  fearful  persecution,  by  refusing  to  honor  a  distinguished 

*See  The  Feast  of  Esther.  Series  I,  n. 


official  of  another  faith  and  people,  which  his  religion  did  not  prohibit, 
and  of  which  some  of  his  most  illustrious  ancestors  have  set  the  example. 

As  to  the  character  of  Haman,  its  delineation  is  faithful  enough  to 
allow  a  belief  in  the  possibility  of  its  having  been  a  pen  picture  of  some 
covetous  official  in  the  remote  past  If  historic,  he  deserves  more  of  our 
pity  than  our  censure.  We  are  dealing  then  with  a  patient  rather  than 
with  a  criminal,  with  one  of  those  unfortunates,  of  whom  history  has 
recorded  many,  who  lost  control  over  the  fiery  steeds  of  ambition,  which,  - 
dashing  off  like  mad,  hurled  him  at  last  over  the  dizzying  precipice  down- 
into  the  horrible  abyss. 

Ambition's  fiery  steeds  scamper  along  in  every  sound  mind.  In 
some  they  run  with  a  quicker  pace  than  in  others,  but  present  they  are 
in  each,  placed  there  by  nature's  own  hand,  and  for  each 
ra™ebcoCreeOD  the  man's  good— so  long  as  he  keeps  the  reins  well  in  hand. 
But  that  is  not  an  easy  task.  The  racers  are  many.  The 
desire  not  to  be  outstripped  by  a  neighbor  is  strong.  Almost  involunta- 
rily the  hand  seizes  the  whip  at  the  sound  of  the  fast-gaining  rival  behind. 
To  overtake  the  one  in  front  becomes  the  passion  of  the  one  behind. 
Faster  and  faster  and  more  and  more  painfully  falls  the  whip  upon  the  steeds. 
They  shoot  forward  with  lightning  speed;  the  track  flies  from  under  their 
feet.  The  racers  are  now  side  by  side  in  dangerous  proximity.  They  are 
wild  with  excitement  Now  the  one  leads;  now  it  is  the  other.  The  steeds 
are  covered  with  foam.  The  drivers  are  hoarse  from  shouting,  and  blind 
from  the  dust.  They  hear  not  the  cries  of  warning.  They  see  not  the 
beings  and  objects  they  run  down  in  their  mad  course.  One  rival  sink* 
exhausted  on  the  track.  Another  quickly  takes  his  place.  He,  too, 
falls;  and  another;  and  another;  and  yet  others.  The  road  is  strewn 
with  wrecks  and  ruins,  with  gasping  and  mortally  wounded  steeds 
and  drivers.  One  succeeds  in  getting  far  ahead  of  all  his  rivals;  he  has 
none  to  fear;  still  he  flies  into  a  passion  at  the  sight  of  a  crawling  blind 
old  nag  he  chances  to  pass,  and  brings  his  lash  heavily  down  upon  his 
breathless  steeds  to  run  the  harmless  traveller  down.  At  last  he  is  the 
only  one  left  upon  the  tracks.  He  has  gratified  his  passion;  the  victory 
is  his.  Fatigued,  he  seeks  to  halt  his  coursers,  but  they  no  longer  obey 
his  call  or  command.  The  more  he  pulls  back,  the  faster  they  shoot 
forward.  On,  on  they  rush,  till  at  length  steeds,  chariot  and  driver  tum- 
ble together  in  a  heap  of  hopeless  exhaustion. 

It  is  only  on  some  such  pathological  theory  as  this  that  we  can  account 
for  that  strange  disease  of  many  men,  who,  with  honors  thick  upon  them, 

without  a  rival  to  fear,  with  ample  treasures  and  pleas- 
Excessive  ambi-  . 

tion  leads  to  the  ures  at  their  command,  will  permit  themselves  to  become 
disease:  covetous-  unnappy(  or  frenzied  with  rage  and  malice,  because  some 

insignificant  fellow  refuses  to  doff  his  hat  to  them,  or 
because  some  by -street  shopkeeper  dares  to  catch  a  few  penny  customers. 
What  we  condemn  in  them  as  avarice  or  envy,  is  often  but  the  after-effect 
of  years  of  uncontrolled  ambition.  They  have  been  on  the  race-track  so 
long,  have  been  dominated  for  so  many  years  by  the  passion  of  reach- 
ing the  goal  the  soonest,  and  plucking  the  prize  the  first,  have  for  so  many 


years  kept  a  sharp  eye  on  competitors,  and  have  run  down  feared  and 
•dangerous  rivals  so  long,  till  their  passion  turned  into  disease,  compelling 
them  to  continue  the  race  though  they  have  long  since  reached  and 
passed  the  goal,  to  fear  and  suspect  every  man  as  their  rival,  to  feel 
envious  of,  and  miserable  at,  another  man's  success,  and  to  have  no 
peace,  no  comfort,  till  the  breathless  steeds  of  their  ambition  have  run 
them  down  and  utterly  destroyed  them. 

I  have  said  that  Hamaii  deserves  our  pity  rather  than  our  condem- 
nation, if  for  110  other  reason  than  in  self-defense,  in  extenuation  of  a  sin, 
from  which,  I  am  sure,  but  the  fewest  of  us  are  free. 

.  Who  is  insensible 

We  have  before  us  in  Hainan  the  intensified  form  of  a    of  honor  is  insen- 

passiou  that  has  a  distinguished  place  in  the  minds  of  most   Slble  of  shame- 
of  us.     We  all  love  honor,  and  very  many  of  us  are  engaged  in  a  hot  race 
after  it,  though  not  many  of  us  may  be  willing  to  admit  it  as  frankly  as 
did  King  Henry  V,  whom  Shakespeare  makes  to  say: 

"  If  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honor, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive." 

King  Henry  V—  Act  IV.  Sc.  3. 

and  I  am  as  much  in  doubt  as  King  Henry  was,  the  tenth  commandment 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  as  to  whether  "  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honor." 
I  am  strongly  inclined  to  suspect  a  man  of  being  insensible  of  shame  who  is 
insensible  of  honor.  Show  me  the  man  who  tells  you  that  he  cares  for 
neither  honor  or  fortune,  that  he  is  contented  with  obscurity  or  poverty, 
^nd  I  will  show  you  either  a  prevaricator  or  a  fool.  His  very  posing  as  a 
man,  who  cares  not  for  honors  often  but  cloaks  a  greedy  appetite  for  it,  as 
there  are  people  who  parade  more  haughtiness  in  their  ostentatious  exhi- 
bition of  exceeding  humbleness  and  modesty  than  they  possibly  could 
have  done  by  any  of  the  regular  modes  of  displaying  pride.  If  the  tenth 
commandment  be  understood  to  prohibit  the  cherishing  of  some  noble 
ambition,  the  setting  of  some  other  man's  great  success  and  honor  before 
us  as  a  goal  to  attain,  through  personal  effort,  similar  fortunes  and  stations, 
then  the  man,  who  has  never  transgressed  against  it,  must  be  of  the  cate- 
gory of  that  boy  who  never  told  a  lie — because  he  was  dumb,  must  never 
have  had  brain  enough  and  energy  enough  to  cherish,  and  strive  for,  a 
noble  ambition. 

I  have  never  held  that  commandment  responsible  for  so  absurd  a 
teaching.  Man  should  be  ambitious,  he  shall  covet  konors  and  fortunes, 
and  he  will,  commandment  or  no  commandment.  God 
has  taken  good  care  to  implant  the  instinct  of  ambition  ^ambition?**8* 
deep  in  human  nature,  especially  in  its  most  illustrious 
representatives,  to  make  the  progress  of  humanity  not  a  matter  of  choice 
but  of  compulsion.  But  for  that  attribute,  we  never  would  have  advanced 
as  we  have,  we  never  could  have  advanced  at  all,  judging  from  the  com- 
parison between  the  unambitious  beast  and  the  ambitious  human  being, 
•or  between  the  stagnant  oriental  villager  and  the  enterprising  citizen  of 
-an  occidental  metropolis. 

Ambition  is  the  salt  that  preserves  the  mind  from  stagnation,  and 
the  body  from  decay.  But  for  it,  our  greatest  powers  would  never  come 


to  light,  our  noblest  faculties  would  rust  unused.  It  is  the  baton  that 
holds  our  best  energies  harmoniously  together  and  starts  them  off  in 
rythmic  motion.  It  is  the  lash  that  drives  our  blood  into  healthful  flow 
and  our  mind  into  useful  activity.  It  is  the  source  of  all  the  mind  values 
highest,  and  all  the  heart  cherishes  the  most.  It  has  laid  the  foundation 
of  the  first  place  of  worship,  and  the  corner-stone  of  the  first  school,  and 
there  has  not  been  a  church  or  school  since  that  owed  not  its  existence 
to  it  It  has  steeled  the  arm  of  the  first  warrior,  and  has  made  every  dis- 
tinguished soldier  laugh  at  danger  ever  since.  It  has  guided  the  pen  of 
the  first  writer,  and  of  every  writer  since.  It  has  inspired  the  mind  of 
the  first  reformer,  lawgiver,  discoverer,  inventor,  and  of  all  their  count- 
less successors  since.  It  has  taken  the  first  ship  across  the  ocean,  and 
the  first  locomotive  across  the  land;  sunk  the  first  shaft  into  the  earth, 
stretched  the  first  telegraph  over  the  continents,  and  the  first  cables  under 
the  seas.  It  has  started  more  enterprises  than  mind  has  knowledge  of, 
and  has  brought  more  blessings  into  the  world  than  man  can  count. 
For  all  the  comforts  of  life  we  are  indebted  to  it.  It  has  lightened  our 
burdens  and  heightened  our  joys.  It  has  widened  our  horizon  and  deep- 
ened our  knowledge.  It  has  removed  life's  trials  and  tribulations  further 
off,  and  has  brought  heaven  nearer.  To  say,  therefore,  that  this  innate 
spirit  of  ambition,  that  ever  urges  man  forward  and  onward,  that  ever 
impels  him  to  think  more  and  to  achieve  more,  to  be  more  and  to  have 
more,  is  a  violation  of  the  Tenth  Commandment,  is  contrary  to  the  will 
of  God,  is  simply  madness.  * 

I  know  that  in  speaking  a  word  in  favor  of  ambition,  I  run  counter 
the  stereotyped  commonplaces  wherewith  it  has  been  attacked  both  in 

speech  and  in  print.  Few"  quotations  and  illustrations 
Ambitum  ra  are  mOre  fluent  on  our  lips  than  those  which  belabor 

wealth,  belittle  honor,  and  elevate  the  sweets  of  content- 
ment. Our  nursery  tales  and  Sunday  School  Literature  are  full  of  such 
morals.  Our  primers  revel  in  them.  Our  preachers  find  them  grateful 
subjects,  and  poets  delight  in  turning  them  into  popular  rhymes.  Lines 
such  as  Shakespeare  put  into  the  mouth  of  Cardinal  Wolsey: 

"  Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition, 
By  that  sin  fell  the  angels;  how  can  man  then, 
The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  it." 

Henry  I  'III—  Act  III.,  So.  2. 
or  such  as  these: 

"  Alas!  the  joys  that  fortune  brings 
Are  trifling,  and  decay; 
And  those  who  prize  the  trifling  things 
More  trifling  still  than  they." 

spring  up,  uncalled,  in  our  memories  as  soon  as  the  subject  is  but  broached; 
and  pastorals  and  farm-ballads  that  contrast  the  palace  of  the  rich  with 
the  cottage  of  the  poor,  the  rich  fare  and  costly  costume  of  the  one  with 
the  frugal  meal  and  humble  dress  of  the  other,  and  show  how,  despite 
the  difference,  the  lot  of  the  poor  is  far  more  enviable  than  that  of  the 
rich,  are  constantly  appealed  to  in  praise  of  contentment,  and  in  condem- 
nation of  ambition.  The  whole  vocabulary  of  abuse  is  piled  on  wealth. 


Tt  is  designated  as  the  root  of  every  evil,  the  source  of  every  woe, 
the  bane  of  every  bliss.  It  is  the  curse  of  society,  and  we  are  warned 
against  the  seductive  tempter  that  conceals  the  fatal  poison.  In  eloquent 
terms  the  fascinations  of  mediocrity,  are  portrayed  to  us,  and  no  labor  is 
spared  to  convince  us  of  the  wisdom  of  Agur  of  old  in  praying  that  '  God 
may- give  him  neither  poverty  nor  riches  '*  and  of  Goldsmith's  cleverness 
in  regarding  "  ignorance  of  wealth  "  the  "best  riches,  "f 

But,  strange,  with  all  the  bitter  denunciation  of  ambition,  with  all 
the  eloquence  and  rhetoric  in  favor  of  poverty  or  mediocrity,  with  all 
the  abundance  of  literature  in  all  languages,  ages,  climes, 
against  fame  and  fortune,  there  has  never  been  a  cessation  m'm^u^eefed 
in  the  intense  race  and  struggle  among  all  the  people 
for  whatever  honor  and  riches  there  was  to  be  had.  And  what  is  stranger 
still,  they  that  write  and  speak  most  vehemently  against  ambition,  are, 
as  a  rule,  in  keenest  and  hottest  pursuit  after  it.  There  have  been  writers 
and  speakers  who  worked  hard,  even  while  writing  and  speaking  on  the 
beauties  of  mediocrity,  to  reach  the  highest  place  and  the  fattest  salary, 
and  they  would  never  have  forgiven  you  had  you  asked  them  whether 
their  work  was  an  illustration  of  the  mediocrity  they  so  much  praised. 
People  have  been  too  busy  obeying  the  forward-urging  instincts  of  their 
nature,  and  too  conscious  of  the  hypocrisy  of  the  eulogizers  of  poverty  or 
mediocrity,  to  pay  much  attention  to  such  sophistries.  They  knew  that, 
at  best,  their  rhetoric  was  but  a  sugar-coating  of  a  very  bitter  pill,  which 
adverse  circumstances  obliged  them  to  swajlow,  or  a  revengeful  thrust  at 
the  honored  and  the  wealthy,  who  were  not  in  the  least  ruffled  by  it, 
knowing  that  though  much  pitied  by  the  panegyrists  .of  obscurity,  it 
would  not  have  been  safe  to  offer  to  exchange  with  them. 

Neither  have  they  been  much  dissuaded  from  the  ambitious  course 
on  which  they  were  bent,  by  the  saws  and  sermons  on  the  mockery  of 
fame  and  the  misery  of  wealth,  by  people  who  have  had  a  surfeit  of  glory, 
and  whom  age  or  feebleness  had  incapacitated  from  continuing  in  the 
excitement  of  the  race,  or  from  any  longer  drawing  enjoyment  from  their 
fame  or  fortune.  A  thousand  death-bed  warnings  against  the  bubble  of 
glory  are  not  one  half  as  much  of  a  deterrent,  as  the  sight  of  the  honor 
shown  to  one  celebrated  man,  or  of  the  pleasures  and  possibilities  within 
the  reach  of  one  wealthy  man,  acts  as  a  spur. 

People  have  also  learned  to  understand  what  is  generally  included 
under  contentment,  or  under  the  modest  term  of  mediocrity.  Thomson 

only  asks  for 

"  An  elegant  sufficiency,  content 
Retirement,  rural  quiet,  friendship,  books. 
Ease  and  alternate  labor,  useful  life 
Progressive  virtue,  and  approving  Heaven." 

The  Seasons— Spring;  Line  1158. 

Who  would  not  be  content  with  such  an  abundance  of  blessings,  or  who 
would  refuse  to  be  poor  or  mediocre  with  such  treasures  as  these  as  his 
•own?  Who  can  acquire  these  without  bringing  a  large  amount  of  ambition 

*Pro.  xxx,  S.  .t.THe  Traveller. 


into  play,  or  can  rest  content  after  honorably  acquiring  as  much  as 
this  ?  He  that  by  hard  and  honest  toil  has  secured  for  himself  '  an  elegant 
sufficiency,  friendship,  books,  ease,  useful  life,  progressive  virtue, '  will  not, 
and  cannot,  rest  on  his  laurels,  and  say:  "I  am  done,  I  have  nothing 
more  to  wish  for  or  to  strive  for."  Our  distinguished  author  Holmes  has 
amused  himself  not  a  little  over  such  conceptions  of  contented  poverty  or 
mediocrity  as  this  Thomsonian  one,  and  has  added  one  of  his  own  in  the 
following  clever  satire: 

"  L,ittle  I  ask;  my  wants  are  few;  Honors  are  silly  toys,  I  know. 

I  only  wish  a  hut  of  stone,  And  titles  are  but  empty  names; 

(A  very  plain  brown  stone  will  do,)  I  would,  perhaps,  be  Plenipo, — 

That  I  may  call  my  own; —  But  only  near  St.  James; 

And  close  at  hand  is  such  a  one,  I'm  very  sure  I  should  not  care 

In  yonder  street  that  fronts  the  sun.  To  fill  our  Gubernator's  chair. 

Plain  food  is  quite  enough  for  me;  Jewels  are  bawbles;  't  is  a  sin 

Three  courses  are  as  good  as  ten;—  To  care  for  such  unfruitful  things;— 

If  Nature  can  subsist  on  three,  One  good-sized  diamond  in  a  pin — 

Thank  Heaven  for  three.    Amen  !  Some,  not  so  large,  in  rings,— 

I  always  thought  cold  victuals  nice;—  A  rubv-  and  a  Pear1'  or  so> 

My  choice  would  be  vanilla-ice.  wm  do  for  me!  J  lau£h  at  show- 

********* 

I  care  not  much  for  gold  or  land;-  Thus  humbie  Jet  me  live  and  die, 

Give  me  a  mortgage  here  and  there,—  Nor  long  for  Midas'  golden  touch; 

Some  good  bank-stock,-some  note  of  hand,  If  Heaven  more  generous  gifts  deny, 

Or  trifling  railroad  share, —  I  shall  not  miss  them  much,— 

I  only  ask  that  fortune  send  Too  grateful  for  the  blessing  lent 

A  little  more  than  I  shall  spend.  Of  simple  tastes  and  mind  content ! 

That  there  have  been  those  that  have  been  contented  with  very  little, 
and  have  been  happier  with  it  than  others  with  very  much  I  shall  not 

deny.     Did  not  Diogenes  content  himself  with  a  barrel 
The  unambitious 

not  the  world's  for  a  home,  and  have  we  not  had  hermits  contented  with 
benefactors.  yet  lesg?  But  for  how  mucll  is  the  world's  civilization 

indebted  to  such  men  as  these  ?  What  have  they  done  to  promote  the 
best  interests  of  human  kind.  Was  not  their  isolation  or  their  idiosyn- 
crasy a  species  of  selfish  ambition  to  win  a  saintship  in  Heaven  or  a 
crankship  on  earth  ?  What  has  the  world  benefited  by  those  other  much- 
lauded  contented  beings,  who  want  little,  and  have  their  want,  and  care 
nothing  for  the  abundance  of  others,  and  are  merry  and  gay  the  livelong 

•  day,  without  a  care  for  to-morrow,  without  a  pang  for  the  lost  opportunity 
of  yesterday,  without  provision  for  the  time  when  they  shall  be  no  more, 
without  any  other  final  request  than 

"  Cover  my  head  with  turf  or  a  stone, 
It  is  all  one,  it  is  all  one." 

To  be  sure  they  have  enjoyed  their  life; — but  so  do  the  cattle  in  the  field. 
And  they  have  enjoyed  it  with  not  a  few  of  the  products  of  other  men's 
ambitions.  They  have  never  spelled  their  names  Moses  or  Jesus  or 
Mohamed.  They  have  never  turned  immortal  epics,  or  chiselled  immor- 
tal gods  and  goddesses,  or  reared  over  them  proud  temples  and  mighty 
palaces.  They  have  never  started  out  as  pioneers  into  unknown  lands, 

•  or  ventured  into  the  untrodden  fields  of  scientific  research.     They  have 


never  answered  to  the  name  of  Gutenberg  or  Watt,  of  Stephenson  or 
Pulton,  of  Franklin  or  Edison.     No  emancipated  slaves  ever  stammered ' 
before  them  their  gratitude;  no  freed  nations  and  peoples  ever  bedewed 
their  graves  with  their  tears,  or  raised  towering  monuments  over  them 
in  grateful  recognition  of  their  noble  services. 

Fortunately  the  world  has  not  many  such — sometimes  I  question- 
whether  it  has  any  at  all  that  are  of  sound  mind  and  capable  of  lending 

their  fellowmen  a  helping  hand.     Be  a  man  of  thought 

,.  .      6        Doubtful 
and  energy  and  you  can  as  little  help  being  ambitious  as    whether  unam- 

you  can  help  thinking.     There  is  that  in  you  that  must    ^°^s  Pe°Ple 
out;  you  can  stop  it  only  at  your  peril.     You  must  have 
an  ideal  to  strive  for,  a  hope  to  live  for,  a  goal  to  aim  at.     Your  contented- 
days  cease  with  your  childhood — become  a  man,  and 

"  Gliicklicher  Saugling!  dir  1st  ein  unendlicher  Raum  noch  die  Wiegev 
Werde  Mann,  und  dir  wird  eng  die  uneudliche  Welt." 

Schiller,  Das  Kind  in  der  Wiege. 

If  you  look  up  with  thoughtful  eye,  there  are  the  mysteries  of  nature  with 
their  countless  riddles  to  tempt  your  ambition  to  wrest  the  long-kept 
secrets  from  Heaven  itself,  by  means  of  patient  vigils  at  night  and  painful 
researches  during  the  day.  If  down  you  look,  there  is  the  grave  to  tempt 
a  desire  not  to  pass  completely  from  the  memories  of  the  living  after 
death.  If  you  look  abroad,  there  are  the  wants  and  wrongs  of  humanity 
to  tempt  your  ambition  to  achieve  something,  which,  while  benefitting 
your  fellowmen,  may  enable  you  to  think  with  Horace  of  old:  " Non 
omuls  moriar"  that  you  will  not  die  altogether.  If  there  is  a  spark  of 
manhood  or  womanhood  in  you,  it  will  assert  itself  as  ambition  in  spite 
of  you.  It  will  show  itself  in  your  unceasing  restlessness,  in  your  discon- 
tent with  what  you  have  acquired,  in  your  planning,  and  scheming,  and 
reaching  out  after,  something  that  shall  be  higher  and  better  than  what 
you  have  achieved.  .You  will  cry  with  Goethe  for  "More  Light!"  though 
eighty -three  years  of  noble  service  be  behind  you,  and  the  shadow  of  death 
already  upon  you. 

Will  our  ambition  make  us  happier?     It  may  in  one  sense;  and  it. 
may  not  in  another.     When  nature  planted  that  .instinct  within  us  she 

only  thought  of  the  happiness  of  humanity,   not  of  the 

Ambition  does 
individual.       She   intended   that   the   individual   should    not  necessarily 

seek  and  find  his  happiness  in  the  consciousness  of  toil- 
ing for  all  mankind's  good,  present  and  future,  and  in  the  knowledge  that 
such  toil  by  ambitious  men  in  the  past  has  enabled  him  to  enjoy  his 
present  advantages.  It  is  a  mistake  to  believe  that  men  seek  honor  or 
riches  or  power  for  the  sake  of  deriving  pleasure  from  it.  It  is  done  in 
obedience  to  a  law  of  nature, — primarily  on  account  of  necessities  which 
life  imposes,  secondarily  on  account  of  the  necessities  which  society 
imposes.  If  a  happiness  is  sought  after  by  the  ambitious  other  than  the 
gratification  of  their  ruling  passion,  or  such  as  naturally  flows  from  health- 
ful activity,  they  are  liable  to  disappointment.  The  most  ambitious  men 
have  certainly  been  the  unhappiest,  as  far  as  worldly  pleasure  goes. 
Moses  died  this  side  of  the  promised  laud,  after  a  life  of  toil  and  vexation. 


Jesus  died  upon  the  cross,  with  a  Latin  mock-inscription  over  his  head  to 
Serve  as  a  warning  against  ambition.  Columbus  was  carried  home  in 
chains  from  the  new  world  which  he  had  discovered.  Hannibal  died  of 
the  poison  draught  administered  by  his  own  hand.  Caesar  died  from  the 
dagger-thrust  dealt  by  his  dearest  friend.  Napoleon  died  a  conquered, 
captive  exile  far  from  home.  Bismark  at  Friedrichsruhe  is  brooding  on 
the  ingratitude  of  kings.  We  envy  kings,  while  kings  envy  beggars. 
We  envy  the  stars  of  the  stage  and  the  platform,  while  they  perhaps  curse 
the  day  they  first  set  foot  upon  it.  We  envy  the  stars  of  the  professions, 
while  their  ceaseless  toils  and  worries  and  responsibilities  make  them 
devoutly  wish  they  had  less  of  honor  and  more  of  the  humbler  people's 
happiness.  We  envy  the  princes  of  the  money  marts,  while  they,  the 
' '  poor  in  abundance  "and  the  ' '  famished  at  a  feast, ' '  wish  we  had  all  their 
wealth,  and  they  had  our  freedom  from  vexatious  cares.  We  envy  the- 
honors  and  fortunes  of  the  Hamans,  while  they  lament  and  mourn  and 
are  utterly  miserable  because  some  insignificant  fellow  is  so  uncivil  as 
not  to  bow  before  them. 

That,  with  countless  of  such  deterrent  illustrations  before  us,  it  should 
be  difficult  to  find  in  civilized  lands  a  true  man  or  a  true  woman,  whose 

thought  or  action  is  not  animated  by  this  fire  of  ambition, 
nmst  b^itiOUS  WC  this  enticing  tempter,  this  beguiling  cheat,  is  no  small 

proof  that  we  have  but  little  choice  in  the  matter,  that 
nature  bids,  and  we  must  obey,  must  climb  from  ambition  to  ambition, 
from  toil  to  toil,  from  vexation  to  vexation,  that  the  wheel  of  progress, 
may  roll  on. 

I  have  no  need,  therefore,  to  urge  upon  you  to  cherish  ambition,  to> 
strive  for  fame  and  fortune,  even  in  the  face  of  disheartning  difficulties. 

You  will  do  it  without  my  telling,  as  you  have  done 
w"dwnn£iOUS  hitherto.  Nature  has  put  you  in  the  way  of  it  on  the 

day  of  your  birth,  and  the  whole  system  of  your  training. 
has  kept  you  on  it.  The  praises  at  home,  the  honors  and  prizes  and 
medals  in  school,  the  statues  of  celebrated  men  on  the  public  squares, 
their  pictures  on  your  walls,  their  biographies  on  your  tables,  the  distinc- 
tion the  famous  and  the  wealthy  of  your  community  enjoy,  the  satisfaction, 
you  enjoyed  when  you  succeeded  in  downing  a  competitor  or  in  out- 
stripping a  rival,  or  in  starting  some  new  and  noble  enterprise,  have 
made  ambition  almost  as  much  of  a  necessary  element  of  your  intellec- 
tual and  social  life  as  air  and  food  are  of  your  physical  existence. 

But  a  word  or  two  might  be  profitably  said  in  the  way  of  warning 
against  excess  of  ambition.     Keep  the  fiery  steeds  well  in  hand.     Hold 

your  reins  taut,  or  you  are  lost.  The  moment  you  lose 
musSbe"  We  control  over  them,  they  control  you,  and  dash  off  with 

you  either  to  wreckage  of  morals  or  to  wreckage  of  life. 
Learn  to  discriminate  between  noble  ambition  and  evil  covetousness.  A 
wide  chasm  separates  the  two.  On  the  one  side  is  honor,  right,  emulation, 
blessing,  on  the  other  side  is  shame,  wrong,  avarice,  crime,  and  the  hor- 
rible chasm  between  and  below  is  strewn  with  the  mangled  corpses  of 
those  who  sought  to  bridge  the  two.. 


It  is  this  that  the  tenth  commandment  would  teach  us,  and  it  is  here 
where  it  has  a  powerful  lesson  to  teach.  It  objects  not  to  ambition.  It 
opposes  covetousuess.  In  the  fostering  of  noble  ambition  it  sees  the 
possibility  of  faithful  compliance  with  all  the  preceding  nine  command- 
ments. In  the  nursing  of  covetousness  it  sees  half  of  the  other  com- 
mandments in  danger.  L,et  a  man  lust  after  his  neighbor's  belongings, 
and  he  may  make  Mammon  his  God,  he  may  murder,  violate  the  sanc- 
tity of  his  neighbor's  home,  steal,  slander  and  perjure  himself,  in  trying 
to  get  by  unlawful  means  what  is  not  his  own. 

If  your  neighbor  has  what  you  too  desire  to  have,  get  it  in  the 
honorable  way  your  honest  neighbor  got  it.  There  are  as  many 

good  things  vet  to  be  had  as  ever  were  gotten.     Not  all 

,    Strive  for  noble 
the  discoveries  have  yet  been  made,   not  all  the   good   aims  with  noble 

words  have  yet  been  said,  not  all  the  great  movements  a 
have  yet  been  inaugurated,  not  all  the  earth's  treasures  have  yet  come  to 
light.  But  they  have  to  be  gotten.  Mere  envious  longing,  or  revengeful 
"brooding,  without  raising  your  hand  or  putting  your  best  foot  forward, 
will  never  get  you  in  honest  possession  of  them. —  If  they  are  not  to  be 
had,  then  brood  not  over  impossibilities,  else  covetous  longings  and 
criminal  feelings  will  enter  your  mind.  Set  your  heart  on  other  ambi- 
tions, and  you'll  soon  find  others  as  good  as  those  your  neighbor  has. 

Before,  however,  you  enter  upon  your  new  ambition  measure  your 
aim  by  your  strength.  Aim  high,  but  never  attempt  an  eagle's  flight 
with  a  sparrow's  wing.  You  will  either  drop  exhausted, 

or  resort  to  tricks  to  attain  your  end.     Better  unfamed    An  eagle's  flight 

with  a  sparrow's 
out  honest  in  the  valley  beneath  than  a  notonous  marau-    wing. 

der  on  the  mountain  tops. 

"Wohl  besser  ist's,  ohn'  Anerkennung  leben 
Und  durch  Verdienst  des  Hochsten  werth  zu  sein, 
Als  unverdieut  zum  Hochsten  sich  erheben, 
Gross  vor  der  Welt  und  vor  sich  selber  klein." 

Bodenstedt,  Mirza-Schaffy. 

Before,  however,  you  enter  upon  your  new  ambition  weigh  its  pur- 
pose. You  may  have  the  power  of  a  giant  yet  the  object  may  not 

deserve  the  strength  of  a  dwarf.     The  accidental  posses- 

,.          .      , ,  ...  ..      .,     .     .  ,     Use  not  a  giant's 

sion  of  a  giant  s  strength  is  no  reason  for  its  being  used  strength  giant- 
giant-like  in  an  unworthy  cause.  He  that  goes  forth  to  1^™"  unwor" 
conquer  the  world  for  conquest  sake,  to  slaughter  the 
nations  to  display  power,  or  to  gratify  a  lust  of  slaughter,  may  fill  a  page 
in  the  world's  history,  but  a  bloody,  an  execrable  page  it  will  be,  a  page 
as  foul  as  that  of  Lucifer  in  Milton's  epic,  who  to  display  his  power, 
and  to  gratify  his  thirst  for  ruling,  thought  it  '  'better  to  reign  in  hell  than 
serve  in  heaven."  If  great  powers  are  yours,  believe  that  they  have  been 
given  you  for  great  and  good  works.  Cherish  a  noble  ambition  with  them, 
and  seek  to  attain  it  by  noble  means.  Be  right,  and  you  need  have  no 
fear  of  ultimate  success.  Few  men  fail  who  deserve  success,  who  hero- 
ically toil  for  it,  who  patiently  wait  for  it  And  even  if  they  fail,  far  bet- 
ter is  it  to  fail  in  the  right  than  to  succeed  in  the  wrong. 


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